Unknowns, Part the Third
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: No matter how far you run, no matter how deep you hide, you will one day face yourself. What will you see? Reality and illusion blend in this third installment. No one should his or her eyes. AU. HP/OC, SB/OC, JP/LE, RabL/OC. M for mature content, occasional drug use, dub-con, violence.
1. Landslide

**A/N: Welcome to Unknowns, Part 3! If you've not read Part 1, you could get by, but if you've not read Part 2, you'll be very lost. I sincerely encourage you to go back and read both. This is going to be a dark story, and while there will be flashes of happiness and the ending will having resolution, I won't say it's quite a happy ending, because I don't think life works like that. Welcome to the story, if you're new, and welcome back if you're joining us from Part 2.**

 **Above all, enjoy, and please read the A/N at the bottom!**

 **-C**

 _Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? – Landslide, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

 **DECEMBER, 2023**

Catherine Potter stood in the Hogwarts grounds, staring out at the Black Lake. She'd snuck away from the ceremony when she began to feel queasy and she vomited in a rosebush before wandering back toward the tented gathering. She stared at the crowd of people gathered for the funeral, all their real and feigned emotions.

She was supposed to be among them. She was supposed to feel something for the death of her younger daughter, but all she felt was empty and misplaced.

"Mrs. Potter?"

She forced a smile as Columbine Peakes approached, Cora and Jimmy's eldest, and Cynthia's best friend. Cynthia was Catherine's – well, her only child, now. But her eldest child.

"Cyn said your husband was looking for you. Is everything alright?"

"I'd say I needed some air, but as we're outside," Catherine said, gesturing around her as though pointing at visible air. Columbine nodded, understanding. "Have the officials and other such pests begun to filter out, Colly?"

"Not yet, no. Cyn's gone back to Potter Manor with your husband, with a headache. That's why they sent me. They said to come back when you're ready."

"Thank you."

Catherine pressed the girl's hand – although Columbine was eighteen, and already a woman – and walked a bit further up the lake. Already in her forties, with a daughter fully grown, she felt ancient, except when she thought of Cecilia's death. Girls weren't supposed to die at fourteen.

She would have been fifteen today, had they not been burying her. In a manner of speaking.

"The pests are motsly gone," said the smooth, deep voice of Severus. Or rather, Headmaster Snape, now. "Cynthia has gone with her father?"

"Yes, Colly's just said," Catherine said, feeling a shiver down her spine. "What happened, Severus? Celia was always so careful. I just don't understand."

"It wasn't her mistake. Rose is an exemplary teacher, but no one can be wholly vigilant against the follies of idiots and dunderheads. Mostly, the worst to happen is a blown cauldron, a melted desk. But you know there are always reactions…."

He shrugged. The years were weighing on him more heavily than her father and father-in-law, but perhaps this was the responsibility of his station. The gray in his hair and beard suited him, and age had dried out his skin and scalp to take care of his more unfortunate problems. She'd tried to set him up on a date or two, but nothing stuck, and she knew he only went to humor her.

"Keep an eye on Cynthia," he said softly, pressing her hand. "Remus said she took it very hard. Feels responsible."

"She wasn't in the class," Catherine said for what felt like the hundredth time that day alone. "Nothing she could have done."

"No, but being Head Girl, and Celia being her sister, she feels responsible. Are you going home directly?"

"No," she sighed, rubbing her forehead again. "No, I'll stay on a bit. It's been too long since I spent any time at Hogwarts. If you're offering a drink, I'd take it."

His eyes darkened, and she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She and Harry and Ryana hadn't touched a drop of drink since they went clean, all those years ago. Her father had stayed clean, too, and her siblings, to be safe. Catherine told him she was joking, although she wasn't sure she was, and his eyes said quite plainly, he wasn't sure, either.

"I believe there's chocolate and butterbeer on offer," he said sternly. "I trust it is all you'll partake of."

She murmured her agreement and was led upstairs before something ghastly happened, like the Minister for Magic giving his personal condolences – family or not. Draco could offer them later, in person, in private, like a civilized human and not a politician.

/-/

Harry tucked in Cynthia for the first time in years, fighting a bout of tears as he kissed her forehead. She looked so like her mother at eighteen, with slightly darker hair and slightly lighter eyes, but the same fragile beauty. Cecilia had been beautiful as well, but simpler and stronger and more effervescent, like Harry's mother would have been with dark hair and eyes.

"I love you, Cyn," he said as his darling girl – not a girl anymore, but all he had left – wincing in pain at the words.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said, hugging his neck the way she had when she was little. Harry whispered it wasn't her fault and he loved her, but he knew the words meant nothing now. He would repeat them in the morning, and every day after, until they did begin to mean something again. Like he'd done with his wife, when he was afraid of losing her.

Sometimes, it was all that could be done.

/-/

Columbine felt a shiver run down her spine as she sat by the lake, where they'd spread Cecilia Potter's ashes. To die at fifteen was the most haunting and terrible thing she could think of, and worse stil, it was her best friend's little sister, a girl she knew so well.

"Colly?"

Coreen, Columbine's younger sister, was ambling over with a small group of friends, including Cynthia's cousin Gareth. Unlike the Potter and Peakes girls, Gareth Black was not a Gryffindor, but a Hufflepuff like Cynthia's mother.

"Hey," Columbine said with a weak smile, much like the one Mrs. Potter had given her earlier. "If you're looking for Cyn, she went home for the holiday. I expect you'll see her, Gareth."

"I don't know," he said, his voice deep and soft like his father's. "Aunt Kitty isn't likely to want visitors. That's what my grandfather was saying. And he doesn't expect she'll go to the family Christmas party at Aunt Caro's and Uncle Damon's. I may not see her until the train, like the rest of you."

Columbine nodded, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Normally, Cynthia was queen of the school. Not simply because she was Head Girl, but because everybody loved her. They either loved her beauty and grace, or social standing and power, or her warmth and generous spirit. She had the bearing of a girl who knew she was the best in the room, but she managed it in a way that never made anyone feel less.

And Columbine loved her for it.

"I suppose I'll write her," she said softly. "But I ought to wait for tomorrow, oughtn't I?"

No one answered, but their silence spoke volumes.

/-/

Rabastan stood in the tent, holding a glass of wine he'd used to toast the passing of his sister's granddaughter. Cara had gone home, too pained to deal with the mess of reporters and politicians. Sirius had retreated upstairs to the other professors, and Catherine and Harry had likely taken Cynthia home. Rabastan had no reason to stay, but he didn't feel ready to leave. He ambled over to Narcissa and sat beside her, frowning.

"I rather thought we were done with these for a while," she said softly. "So many during the war, more for Sirius, and then Lucius…. Well, Sirius put on a good show of sorrow for me, but I know he didn't give two figs whether Lucius lived or died."

"Did you?" Rabastan asked, a smile in his voice not reaching his lips. Narcissa stared back levelly for a moment, no answer.

The eerie thing was, he really wasn't sure how she'd felt by the time he finally died. He'd never been an easy man to live with, Lucius, but they hadn't had an unhappy marriage, by most measurements.

"I never fathomed Sirius wouldn't be the first to go of his family, of what's left of it," Narcissa said sadly. "As horrible as it was to lose Celia, though, I'm glad it wasn't Catherine."

Rabastan hummed his agreement. Every time Catherine was ill, Sirius started talking about retirement, even if she only had a head cold.

"I couldn't read her," he said softly. "Catherine. How d'you suppose she handled it?"

"You know her," Narcissa said with a sigh. "I'm really not sure she has."

/-/

Sirius rolled a small, humming ball in his hands, cool as metal but made of some material he couldn't pronounce. Severus bought it for him as a gift on Cecilia's birth, fifteen years ago, to calm his nerves. She had been the fifth of sixteen grandchildren, and by the time she came along, Sirius was an anxious wreck every time one of his children announced a pregnancy. Cynthia's birth had been a miracle and an ordeal, as had Cecilia's, and Laura screamed like she was dying in all three of her labors.

The only easy births in his children's households were those of Catherine and Harry's dogs. Paddy, the last funeral he'd attended, had mated with Sophie and they had four puppies not terribly long before Paddy passed away.

Death had seemed a smaller thing back then, distant even though close. Looking at the ashes that were all that was left of his granddaughter, floating out over the Black Lake on an errant wind…. Sirius had never felt death so close and large and looming. Not even in his time during the war, when it felt like a constant marker of his footsteps.

"Why did you opt to cremate her, just out of curiosity?" Remus asked Catherine gently.

She hadn't wanted to go home yet, and as Sirius knew she'd lock herself away once she got there, Sirius was going to hang on to her long as he could keep her at the castle.

"A few things," she said, and she accepted a cup of tea from James. "One, there wasn't much…left of her to bury traditionally. Not…not…." She closed her eyes and squeezed the lids together tightly. "She also wanted it. I know it sounds strange," she said with a hollow laugh. "I doubt Cynthia's stopped to think of that sort of thing. I know I really haven't. But that's how Celia was, you know? She told me when she started Divination, she wanted to be cremated when she did. Not if, you know? When." Catherine made a choking sound. "Harry tried to talk to her about the complications, the wand, all that. She was quite insistent. You know how she got. Like Lily."

Sirius nodded, glancing back out the window. He'd not been around when the accident happened. He was taking a group of students to a meeting of the Wizengamot in one of his free periods – a treat for high performing NEWT level students. Cynthia had been in the group, and Gareth. When they arrived back at the school, everything was in chaos. Severus told him there'd been an accident, and he just knew it was one of his grandchildren. He had nine about the school, seven in the castle at the time. Odds were good.

When he heard Potions accident, it could only have been Cecilia.

"The thing I just keep asking myself," Catherine said softly, "is why this had to happen to me. But I suppose I'm paying my dues."

"What?" James barked abruptly. "What are you talking about?"

"All my sins without a scratch?" she said, her anguish just beneath the surface of her mask, the one she wore for the public. Sirius's chest ached every time he saw it, as he'd never wanted her to need one. "All the things I've put you all through, put Harry through, and still I live in wealth and privilege and love I don't deserve? This is my penance, my dues."

Sirius felt sick to his stomach, but he could hear a ring of truth in her words, and he'd wondered as much just that morning as he prepared for the funeral. He wondered if whether this loss and suffering wasn't fate catching up to him after all his running.

"Don't be ridiculous," Severus said, injecting the voice of reason into their little soiree. "Cecilia's death was a tragedy, an accident, and absolutely no one's fault. Not yours, not Rose's, not Harry's, not Cynthia's. The next person I catch blaming themselves for it will be receiving a sharp slap across the cheek and the dose of some very strong potion of my choosing."

Sirius glanced up to see Severus was looking at him pointedly, and Sirius smiled sadly. Severus could threaten all he wanted, but Sirius would never stop blaming himself. He'd spared his daughter from the brunt of agony, from every imaginable consequence for even her worst actions, but he could not find a way to fix this hole in her life, nor to patch it in his own life.

Sixteen grandchildren, but the loss of just one left him feeling terribly destitute and alone, as though sixteen were not so large a number after all.

/-/

Some nights, Cara slept at the castle, and some nights Sirius came back to the cottage, but this late in their lives, they almost never slept alone. She settled into bed at the cottage, though, and she knew tonight she would be alone. If not in body, then in spirit. Sirius was so crushed at the loss of their granddaughter, and at the lack of conversation with Catherine about the loss, he wasn't himself and might not be himself for some time.

Cara didn't mind. It was a horrible thing they were suffering, and he needed to work through the grief in a way that made sense for him. And although she enjoyed spending more time with him in these later years of their lives, wizards tended to live well past their sixties, and she didn't feel an urgency to spend every moment with him.

She might check in on him in the morning, she decided, before the students came home en masse. If he wasn't too torn up, she might check in on her daughter later, who was likely devastated, despite her cool and collected exterior. Catherine had never said out loud, but after the difficulties they had during Cynthia's birth – even with Severus's treatments – Cecilia's conception and healthy birth had been something of a miracle.

In fact, Cara suspected Catherine and Harry had tried several more times, with varying levels of lack of success, between the two girls, and decided to stop at two for practical, medical reasons.

Cara's own pain was dull and distant, and she knew it would hit her later, when Sirius had time to process and Catherine finally let out her feelings, but for the moment, she needed to focus on babysitting for Caroline and keeping an eye on Cynthia and Catherine and Sirius, for Harry's sake at the least.

/-/

Lily sat in a corner of the tent, the leftovers of her granddaughter's funeral. When James reached out to tell her there'd been an accident at the school, Lily understood all those times when Catherine or Caroline had been injured, or near death. She understood the terror and smallness Sirius must have felt, what he must have been feeling in that moment, because both of Lily's grandchildren were Sirius's as well.

Cecilia had been so bright, so energetic. She'd played Seeker, like her father, and there had already been talk she would play professionally, maybe play for England. She'd had her mother's Potions talent, but not the drive for Rose Lestrange to offer her extra lessons the way her mother had from Severus.

She sighed, watching the guests mill about, no longer talking about Cecilia, but about their own affairs and social matters. She could see Rabastan speaking to Narcissa, likely about Catherine or Cynthia. Perhaps about Sirius.

Lily closed her eyes and wondered about her son. He'd gone through more than she wanted to consider just to have a nice home, a wife he loved, and a small family. And now even this was being ripped apart, and for no reason at all.

"Madam Potter."

She looked up and saw Draco there, and he sat beside her as she nodded to him.

"I'll express my condolences to you," he said softly. "I doubt the rest of the family is in a place to receive them, certainly in an official capacity." Lily nodded. "I just wanted you to know, the official investigation is complete. Multiple departments assure me the incident was entirely accidental, with no negligence or malice from any party. Even Fabian Prewett confirms."

"I rather expected as much," she said, smiling tightly. "Severus assured me, and you know Severus hardly ever wrong. You needn't have involved Aurors for such a thing, much less the head of the department."

"For the most powerful families in wizarding Britain?" he said with a snort. "Yes, Madam Potter, I most certainly had to. The world does not change so rapidly."

She closed her eyes. Forty years on, and she could see how little things had changed. Yes, she didn't have to fight for her right to exist in the magical world anymore. But the likes of Sirius and Rabastan and Narcissa still ran the world and everyone in it. Lily was lucky enough to be part of the set because she and James fell in love, and more so because their son fell in love with Catherine. But she couldn't forget Parvati Patil, still living in hospital with large portions of her life missing, unable to sleep through eight hours without a medication dosage.

Not everyone was so lucky as Lily.

"Do me a favor, Draco," she said, careful not to refer to him as the Minister, making certain he understood to what capacity she was speaking to him. "Keep an eye out for Cara in all of this. She will be strong for her husband and her daughter and her granddaughter, but she may not look out for herself. And I will be watching out for Harry, but I can't watch them all."

"I understand completely," he said softly. "You can count on me."

 **A/N: So, Harry and Catherine had two children, one is dead, and everyone is struggling to find meaning in an accidental death that was no one's fault. Draco is the Minister, Fabian is Head of the Auror Department, Severus is Headmaster, with Remus as Deputy Head. And Sirius and Cara have sixteen grandchildren – or, did. Fifteen now.**

 **Just for you new readers, I will post once a week, on Saturday, every week until this 38 chapter story is all posted. I've even got inklings for doing another Part, probably in the past. We'll see. If you want more frequent postings, there's a way! For every reviews posted between my regular weekly updates, I give one bonus chapter. I've had weeks with no bonuses, and this past week was a rush of 32 bonus chapters! If we have another week like that, I'll have to do quite some pushing, but we'd have the whole story posted a bit quick… So maybe take a little mercy on me?**

 **Also, if you're having a hard time keeping track of the characters, their relationships and relations, their children, their jobs…. I've got a list I add to weekly on my Profile, and I'm updating it TODAY to match up with the Part 3 jump forward in time. But don't hesitate to ask if you feel lost!**

 **Review Prompt: Want to leave a review, but not sure what to write? Would you rather be buried, cremated, or donated? I'm for cremation, personally. The others have always struck me as pretty weird.**

 **Q &A: Ask me anything! About the story, about my writing, about my favorite food…whatever! I answer questions here!**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	2. Rhiannon

**A/N: So, you've got your first Bonus for this story! So exciting! Sorry it took me so long to put all the info on my profile… Of course, I make a promise and then I get a family emergency an hour later. My sister had a panic attack in an airport. Anyway. It's up now! Let me know if you ever get lost with all the childrens… especially Caro's!**

 **-C**

 _Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? – Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Catherine came home after dark. Her father offered to take her, but she declined. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't high, she wasn't incapable of travelling. She wasn't even in the kind of physical pain she knew Harry seemed to feel at the loss of their daughter. Perhaps she should have been.

Kevin Whitby offered to take extra shifts for a week so she could have some time off, which was kind of him. His son had spoken to Catherine and Harry at the funeral. Kenrick was like his father – a good boy, with a hand in everything. Top of his year, just edging out Gareth, Ravenclaw Prefect, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, and a Chaser Columbine Peakes complained of frequently, the way Rhea used to complain about the quality of several of the Gryffindor Chasers. He'd been so polite and sincere when he gave his condolences.

She rubbed her brow and climbed the stairs to the second story. She paused at the top of the stair, glancing to the loft. The front bedrooms, off that loft, had been occupied by her daughters for over a decade now. Cynthia had the bedroom with the larger closet, Cecilia the one with an attached sitting room. Both had access to the deck through the loft between them. Catherine stared at the deck and wondered whether she should do something motherly. She wanted to check on Cynthia, but she could do that in the morning, when they'd both had more time to process. And she thought of looking about Cecilia's bedroom, but now it was just a space, without meaning or significance. Just a place Cecilia used to sleep when they weren't at school. Not like when she was little, when it was her own private castle.

Instead, Catherine went upstairs to the widow's walk and was surprised to find Harry there, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses as he sat, his back to the third-story loft door.

"Harry?" she said, sitting at his feet. He took her hand and kissed it.

"I should have wrote her every day," he said in a tight voice, filled with tears she pretended not to see or hear. "I should have told her every bloody day how much I loved her, Cat. Now it's…it's too late. I'm afraid to go downstairs, because I'll find myself in her room, or in Cyn's, waking her up to tell her how much I love her."

"Let her sleep, love," Catherine said, kissing his hand. "Tell her in the morning. Tell her all day tomorrow, if you need. But give her a bit of space."

Harry nodded and kissed her hand again.

"I love you, Cat," he sighed. "No matter what…. I will never regret having children, no matter how it's all played out. Nothing has been more precious in this world to me than having something we've made together, someone to love that's a piece of each of us. But it hurts."

"I know," she said softly. "I know."

She only wished she truly did.

/-/

Harry paced the bedroom, pausing every once in a while, to look at his sleeping wife. Catherine was right, of course. There was no need to disturb Cynthia, but he couldn't possibly sleep. He stared at Catherine, breathing heavily, wishing he could just curl up against her, breathing in her scent, feeling her in his arms, and in the morning, it would all be a terrible nightmare he could shrug off and walk away from.

But that wasn't true, and he rubbed his eyes, deciding he needed something to eat. His father always told him, food was a good way to process sleepless nights. He crept down to the kitchen, and was surprised to see Ryana Cotton there, sitting on the kitchen floor, holding their Irish Terrier, Pepper, and staring at the cupboards.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked her.

"I just keep seeing Celia as a baby," she said softly, dully. "Every time I close my eyes. I'm afraid if I fall asleep, my mind will make me watch her die. I don't want to see it."

Harry sighed, patting Ryana's head. In the early days of their arrangement, he thought it would be awkward, that someday he would come to resent his wife's girlfriend, or at least having her around, but she was as much part of the family as his own children.

"C'mon," he said gently. "I'll make us some tea and toast and we can go cuddle with the puppies. Bound to be better than what we're doing now."

/-/

Cynthia stared up at the stars from the front deck, just outside her bedroom. She watched her father and Ryana go to the garage which had been converted into a palace for their seven dogs, and she knew they were trying to distract themselves. Cynthia wanted a distraction, but she wouldn't find it in the house. She wanted to drown herself in a numbness unreachable with her sister's room across the hall.

She'd first had alcohol at Columbine's birthday party in the Gryffindor Common Room, and she'd liked the burning, numbing sensation it gave her. Cynthia knew this was what she wanted now, but there wasn't any in the house. Her parents never touched a drop, not even at society events or weddings.

There was only one thing for it. Cynthia went to her closet and changed into a dress suitable for clubbing, a simple but attractive figure-hugging emerald-green mini-dress. She pulled her jet-black, silky hair up into a smooth ponytail, and checking her face in the mirror. She didn't wear makeup for any reason, so she didn't bother putting any on, now. Instead, she paced back out to the deck, glancing up at the sky before Disapparating to an alley around the corner from a London club she and Columbine had snuck out to with Gareth just a few months ago.

/-/

Sirius shivered as he sat in the Astronomy Tower, watching his star in the sky. As a student, had someone he loved died, he would have spoken to Dumbledore. During the war, as well, when he lost his brother. He turned to Dumbledore. Had one of Catherine's mishaps become irreversible in her youth, he would have had Dumbledore, or at least Minerva.

Now, he felt old and alone. He was supposed to be the wise one, and all he felt was a lack of answers.

He heard the footsteps, but he didn't turn. He recognized the gait as Severus's, and he nibbled on his thumbnail as he waited for the smooth baritone voice to state its purpose.

"Catherine will be alright," Severus said, not gentle, but not with any harshness. Just…silky.

"Probably so," Sirius said in a whisper, although his voice echoed about the tower. He leaned back against the stone wall and frowned at his star. "But what if she isn't? Or Cynthia. Or Harry. Or…."

He choked on that last word. Severus surely knew how much pain he was in. No need to admit it out loud.

"Don't borrow trouble," Severus said, sitting beside him and looking up. "As always, should someone not be alright, we will cross that bridge when we get there. You and your daughter and your son-in-law have come through all manner of pain and suffering, and you are all alive and well, most days. Cynthia is a young girl, but she's got a remarkably level head on her shoulders. I imagine it must be from her grandmothers. Perhaps pain is simply part of living, no matter the sacrifices we make."

Sirius hummed. There went his argument about it being unfair, no matter how true Sirius felt the argument was.

"She was such a beautiful thing," Sirius whispered, pulling his thumb from his mouth. "I remember holding Cecilia for the first time. It's always scary when they're that little, but with her it was terrifying. I started feeling my age, the weight of my responsibility, my legacy. More than a dozen grandchildren. I mean, the Black vaults aren't empty, but that's a lot of people to provide for."

"And unlike your ancestors," Severus said, "all of your children have chosen to have careers. Jason's may not be lucrative, but he has only three children. And despite Caroline's academic path, she's managed to provide a lavish lifestyle for all her children. Although, I must say, I'm relieved she and Damon finally stopped having children. Eleven is quite enough for anyone. And Tresha is a terror."

/-/

Cynthia showed her magically faked ID at the door, and she sat at the bar straight away, letting the blaring music she didn't know wash over her as sweaty, drunk people grinded their bodies together and touched each other sexually on the dance floor. Cynthia ignored the other people, ordering a drink and letting herself enjoy the beautiful, numbing burn of alcohol on her lips, on her tongue, down her throat, settling in her belly. As soon as the first drink was gone, she ordered another. She had plenty of Muggle cash in her purse, and if she ran out, she could always carefully use her wand. She'd rather not, even though she didn't have the Trace anymore, but she'd do what she needed to if it kept the whole night secret from her parents.

"Hello, gorgeous," a man said in a thick south London accent, and she barely looked at him. He was in his thirties, she was sure, and not quite as drunk as most people in the room. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"This girl buys her own drinks, thanks," she said coldly, ordering another.

"Don't be testy, luv," he said, resting his hand on her bare thigh. "I've been waiting for someone as beautiful as you all night. Let me treat you."

"You mean you've been waiting for someone as young as me?" she said back acerbically. "Leave me alone."

The man opened his mouth to try again, but the bartender gave her the next drink and shot the man a clear piss-off glare Cynthia was grateful for. If the barkeeper was defending her because he thought he'd get lucky for it later, she could deal with it later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the slip into numbness and the delicious burning in her mouth and stomach.

"What's your name, darling?" the bartender said. He was closer to her age, maybe mid-twenties, and he had kind, pale eyes seeming to recognize she was in pain.

"Cate," she lied quickly. She didn't want this night tracing back to her, ever. "Another?"

"My pleasure."

She knew he was thinking about his pleasure from the way his hand lingered against hers when he gave her the next drink, but she ignored it. He was mixing the drinks a little on the strong side, but she didn't care. She wanted that. She needed it. Every gulp of the burning liquid was wiping away the memories of Cecilia, and the sharpness of Cynthia's guilt.

The next man sat down beside her, this one probably in his fifties, and he tried his luck, asking her name, shooting a few lines. He gave up more easily, but as soon as he left, she knew there'd be another. The bartender gave her a sympathetic look as he poured her another, this time with far too much alcohol under the fruity, sugary drink, but she didn't mind. For the moment, this man was her favorite person in the whole world, and he seemed to recognize it and relish in the fact. She wondered, vaguely, what he would think when she told him she wasn't going to sleep with him. Would he still look so pleased to help her, so happy to aid her in her search for oblivion?

/-/

Jason poured himself a glass of water, pacing the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Laura and the boys were fast asleep, but he couldn't settle. He had a horrible feeling, one that hadn't gone away since Cecilia died, but one seeming to grow stronger and stronger throughout the funeral and into the night, that something was terribly wrong. He felt an urge to Apparate to Potter Manor and check on his sister and niece, but he knew if it was simply his imagination, they would not welcome being woken up in the middle of the night. Particularly such a difficult night. Instead, he focused on the coolness of his water and tried to ignore it.

/-/

After several hours of men hitting on her and drink after drink after drink, she made her way to the toilet, and she lingered over the sink after washing her hands. Cynthia looked beautiful, but she also looked tired, sad, and empty.

"Tired of the men out there pawing at you, darling?"

Cynthia looked up and saw the most startlingly beautiful woman she'd ever seen standing there. Instead of answering, she stared at this woman, late thirties or possibly early forties, and admired her pale, almost glowing skin, her pale blonde hair, her light gray eyes.

"What's your name?" the woman asked, and Cynthia blinked at her. It took a moment to remember the lie she'd told, the name on her magicked ID.

"Erm, Cate."

"Nice to meet you, Cate," the woman said, taking a few smooth, almost floating steps forward. She was infinitely graceful and fluid. Cynthia felt frozen, but she wasn't sure what she was frozen with. It didn't feel like fear. "Do you have a last name, darling?"

"Erm, Jones."

She was pleased with herself for remembering without checking her ID, and the woman seemed amused.

"You look out of place here, darling," the woman said, her voice smooth and clear and warm. "Not looking to go home with one of those idiots, that's for certain. So why come?"

Cynthia closed her eyes and Cecilia's face came to mind far too easily. Her face, and then the image of the ashes flying on the wind out over the lake.

"Forgetting."

"Ah," the woman said, closer still, although Cynthia hadn't noticed footsteps. "Not a breakup?"

"No," she said, feeling tears just behind her eyelids. "My…my baby sister."

She broke down, and the woman drew her into her arms in a somewhat-motherly way, smoothing her cool hands over Cynthia's hair and neck as the girl told her all about her sister, that she'd died in an accident, careful to give a Muggle-safe version as this woman petted her neck and hair.

/-/

Laura found Jason pacing the kitchen and she touched his hand as he passed her, not even seeing her. He looked up and set down his glass of water, taking her hands and kissing them.

"It's worse, isn't it?" she whispered.

Jason said nothing, but she knew. He'd not been sleeping since Cecilia's accident, and he'd grown increasingly agitated. Laura ran her hands up his arms and caressed his shoulders, feeling the tension in his body as he trembled.

"Is something wrong, love?" she asked, knowing he must have some idea.

He said nothing, his eyes wide, his jaw twitching. He suddenly pulled her close and hugged her to him, and she could hear the racing of his heart as she rested her head on his chest. She thought about taking him to hospital, but he would only insist he was well and no Healer she knew of apart from Madam Potter would dare look him over against his will.

A disadvantage of being married to one of the most powerful men in wizarding Britain. The list of people who could force his hand was absurdly short.

"We could call your mum if you'd like," she whispered against him, and he snorted.

He was right, of course. His mother would have plenty of things to worry about, what with babysitting Caroline and Damon's children, checking in on the Potters, keeping an eye on her grieving husband. She wouldn't have time for Jason's concern if it really wasn't serious. But if it was….

If it was truly something concerning, and Laura didn't force her husband's hand like she felt she ought to, then Laura would certainly feel whatever resulted was her fault. But if it was nothing, Jason would be irked she'd used capital on something that didn't matter.

"Do me a favor at least," she said softly, looking up at his wide eyes and trembling jaw. He hummed. "Will you take something to sleep, love?"

Jason hesitated. She knew he hated the idea of becoming dependent on anything, although he never talked about why he tried to lock himself out of the liquor cabinet and refused most medications.

"Just the one," he finally said in a strained voice. "If that's what you need, Laura, I'll take one, but don't let me take more than one."

She shivered.

/-/

Cynthia wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow, she was on a Muggle train to France with the woman from the club. She enjoyed the feel of the woman's cool hand on her leg, caressing her skin, just as she'd enjoyed the feel of the woman's cool lips on her lips and cool arms around her neck. The woman asked if there was somewhere they could go, and the only place Cynthia could think of where they could be alone was the villa in Marseille, so she said she had a place in France and off they went. She was following the promise of escape, of freedom from something, of the pleasure of letting go and letting this woman help her forget. She couldn't see going back, not yet, so why not go elsewhere?

"I just realized," Cynthia said, turning her face toward the woman's shoulder, feeling exhaustion hitting her, wondering vaguely what time it was. "I didn't get your name."

"Call me Rhiannon."

 **A/N: So, Catherine is annoyed not to feel as deeply as her father and husband about the loss, Jason grows increasingly irritable and sleepless, and Cynthia tries to run from her grief.**

 **Review Prompt: Who's going to blame themselves the most in the morning?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Is Columbine's friendship to Cynthia kind of like Ryana's was to Catherine? (Marcytherock)**

 **A: Erm, yes and no. It would be more like Ginny and Catherine, had Ginny had a crush on/been in love with Catherine. Or if Ryana had actually been Catherine's best friend. Columbine and Cynthia are true besties, a dynamic duo, think James and Sirius, Harry and Ron (or Harry and Neville in this AU), Jason and Cora. They're tight. It's not puppy love and hero worship at all.**

 **Q: Will we get to see more of Aeson and Ourania? (ravenclauses)**

 **A: So, yeah, I kind of threw them in at the end (although I'd been waiting for that FOREVER) of Part 2, and it probably wasn't satisfying for those of you who wanted to see them and their adorably snarky dynamic. There's not a lot of them in this story, particularly Ourania, because Aeson is at Hogwarts, so most of what you'll see of him is his interacting with other teachers (especially Rose, his sister-in-law) or the students (especially his children, nieces, and nephews). But the action is, largely, away from the school, so we won't get much of those at Hogwarts.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	3. What You Lost

**A/N: Bonus Chapter 2! My dear friend,** _ **AvinaNox,**_ **is catching up, and reviewing as she goes! Everyone say thank you!**

 **-C**

 _Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost, and what you had, and what lost – Dreams, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Cara couldn't shake a sensation of loss as she dressed the following morning. She supposed it was a lingering effect of the funeral, a reminder she had lost a precious granddaughter, and there would never be any getting her back.

She had a quick breakfast, showered, dressed, and Flooed to Prewett Manor – the renamed Selwyn Manor she had been raised in. It was never easy, spending so much time there, but Caroline had so many children, she needed the extra help, especially with all the older ones at home for the holiday.

"Hey, Mum," Caroline said, kissing Cara's cheek as she brushed herself off. "I've got about ten minutes before my conference starts. Jowan's playing Gobstones with Xanthia and the twins. Issy is trying to get Tresha to eat something, so they may be your first stop. Zenia and Marly took the other munchkins out to play in the gardens. Damon's off until the afternoon, so he went out with them. Is there anything you need?"

"By other munchkins, you mean the other three, yes?" Cara asked, keeping a tally of children in case her daughter forgot to mention one. It was important, with eleven children, none be forgotten or overlooked. Even with Cara and two house elves around when Caroline and Damon were at work, it was not easy to keep track of. Caroline was even thinking of hiring a third elf, part time, at least.

"Yeah," Caroline said, rubbing her eyes. "I should have stayed overnight, but with the funeral…"

"Go, go," Cara said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "Kitty appreciates it. I'll go see if I can relieve Issy so she can help your husband."

/-/

Jason woke rested, but his body was still having the violently anxious reaction first thing upon waking, and he knew he had to go to Potter Manor. The boys were all old enough to figure out their day without his help, and his wife could see from the urgency with which he was dressing she was going to have to open the clinic without him.

"D'you know what's wrong?" she asked, but he said nothing, hurrying out to the city street and Disapparating on the spot. He hurried up to the gate of his sister's home, pressing his hand to the gate and waiting impatiently. He paced several times before Catherine greeted him, bemused, bewildered, and obviously exhausted. But she seemed alright.

"Jason?" Catherine asked, opening the gate, he pushed past her and hurried up to the house. She scurried after, trying to keep up as she said, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"That's what I needed to ask you," he said. "I have this horrible feeling something's wrong, and if it's not you, it has to be Cynthia."

"Does it?" she asked, puzzled.

They went into the house, and before they could even mount the stairs, a distressed-looking Harry was scrambling down them, tearful and red-faced as he ran.

"Cat, she's gone," he said, strained and shaking. "Our daughter is gone."

"Harry, I know," Catherine said, bewildered as she stared at Harry and Jason. "We had the funeral yesterday, remember?"

"He doesn't mean Celia," Jason whispered. "He means Cynthia. She's gone."

Catherine fainted, and Jason caught her before her head hit the marble floor.

/-/

Caroline didn't make it to her conference. Her brother called her to Potter Manor, said it was an emergency, and she was given the news as soon as she arrived at the gates.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, rubbing her shoulders.

"Harry's called in most of the reinforcements," Jason said, "but I need you to go to the school while he pays a visit to Draco. I don't think I should leave Kitty like this."

Caroline agreed. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose a child in the first place, but to wake up one day and have her only other child simply vanish…. It was unthinkable to Caroline, whose life had been filled with children for quite some time now.

She hurried to Hogwarts's front gates and sent a message directly to Severus Snape, not wanting to be the one to give the news to her father. Perhaps he was on high alert, for some reason, because he'd come to the gates in what she supposed was probably record time.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing the shaking of her hands. "You had a conference, did you not?"

"Damn the conference," she sighed. "Jason called me. Cynthia's missing."

"Missing?"

"Bed's empty, not slept in, and she's nowhere on the property," Caroline said, feeling a wave of nausea building up in the base of her throat. "No idea where she's gone. Harry thinks she might have run away, and she doesn't have the Trace anymore. She could be anywhere."

"Calm yourself," he said sternly. "Come with me. You are to gather Remus and James. Let me handle your father. Get them the basics and send them to Potter Manor, and then go about your day as though this didn't happen, do you understand me?"

"I need a Calming Draught," she said, rubbing her hands together as she failed to calm herself.

"You know the rules about substances, Caroline."

"You don't understand," she said anxiously. "I think it's maternal instinct. My core is unstable, Severus. If I don't take something, get this under control, I could burn down the whole bloody conference on arrival."

He sighed.

"Very well," he said. "There's one in my office, clearly labeled, for use with hysterical students. Second drawer of the desk, down from the left. Take it, and go about your day, after you've sent on Remus and James. Understood?"

Caroline nodded. She had a feeling Jason had taken something as well, from the look of him, and she was worried they'd have to give something to Catherine or Harry – and nobody wanted that.

/-/

"Where are you doing?" Delia demanded of her husband as he pulled on his boots and looked around for his cloak. "Rabastan, where are you going?"

"Cynthia is missing," he said. "I've been called urgently to Potter Manor. I'll be home when I can."

"What do you mean Cynthia's missing?" she called, but he'd pulled on his cloak and left without a word or a glance back at her. She inhaled a sharp breath through her nose and paced back and forth across the foyer, wondering what to do.

After losing Cecilia, something like this would almost certainly put his niece through undo stress, and she couldn't help thinking how devoted Rabastan was to his niece, always looking for excuses to give her what he thought she wanted or needed. She would need comfort, support, perhaps even supervision while they sorted out whatever was happening with Cynthia. She hoped it was sorted out soon, perhaps selfishly, concerned what might happen, should her husband have an excuse to spend too much time alone with Catherine. He'd said, the one time she confronted him about being in love with his niece, there was a difference between how he felt and how he acted, but every man was subject to temptation.

She paced the foyer again, once, twice, thrice, and she decide to call her daughter in. It was a safe bet Adrasteia wasn't too busy to have tea with her mother, and it would be something to distract her from the anxiety bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Delia supposed she could always give a pretense of curiosity about Adrasteia's latest novel, although she hadn't much cared for the book, in truth. But her daughter never needed to know. She only needed to know how proud her mother was that she'd become an accomplished writer.

Accomplished in the sense of monetary success, naturally.

Delia sent the elf to send the message to her daughter, and she went to the sitting room to wait. She thought of checking to see if either of her sons had been pulled into the mess, but she decided better of it. The best way to deal with a crisis she wasn't supposed to manage was to ignore it was happening at all, and Delia was an expert in such matters. She could deal with the implications of whatever her husband did later.

She hoped.

/-/

Isebella Prewett knew something was wrong when her grandmother asked her to take Tresha for a nap. Tresha responded best to Nanna, and if Nanna was having anyone else take care of Tresha's nap, something was wrong. She managed to coax her baby sister to bed and slipped out again, pausing in her own pale yellow bedroom to grab some lip balm when her elder brother poked his head in.

Jowan was a fifth year and Prefect, and Isebella was a third year. Their cousin, Cecilia, had been between them in age, but she'd been a Gryffindor instead of a Hufflepuff.

"Something's wrong, Issy," he said softly. "Nanna's gone to the guest room and is staring at a wall like…I don't know. Zenia said she's just not moving."

"Should we call Dad at work?" Isebella whispered.

Her brother nibbled on his lip, looked around the corridor, and shook his head slowly.

"No, we'll see if she gets better. It's probably just grief, losing Celia. I'll get Marly to help with lunch. You make Nanna some tea. What kind of sandwich d'you want?"

She groaned. She didn't want a sandwich. He took her groan as an answer that she'd eat what she was given, which she would, and then she hurried down to the kitchen to make her grandmother some tea. She made up a whole tray, and Jowan put a couple of sandwiches on it – prawn, and therefore obviously not for Isebella – and kissed her cheek gently.

"Work your miracles, Issy," he said with a wink.

He meant the calming effect her father said she had on people, which would hopefully help her reach out to their grandmother. She hoped it would do some good, and she hurried up to the guest bedroom, carefully carrying the tray past a few of her siblings. She set it down on the table in the corner of the room and looked over at her Nanna.

Isebella thought her grandmother was the most beautiful woman in the world, and had always thought so. She was graceful and dignified, soft and yet aristocratic. She had the gentleness of Uncle Jason, but the regal bearing of Aunt Kitty. Even the subtle gray of age in her dark hair was beautiful, shimmering through dark brown strands of long, soft hair.

"Nanna?" she said gently, but there was no response. Isebella sat on the floor beside her grandmother and placed her head in the older woman's lap, closing her eyes and hoping her grandmother's tender hand would trace through her chestnut-brown hair. She waited, holding her breath, pleading silently that she didn't have to call in her father, or her grandfather. There was enough on everyone's plates without Nanna of all people having a meltdown.

Nanna was the cornerstone of the family, the pillar keeping everybody strong, the essential piece of the puzzle that was supposed to carry them through the loss of Cecilia. She couldn't break down. Isebella didn't know what she'd do.

She sighed with relief, though, when her grandmother's soft, warm hand smoothed through Isebella's hair, and her gentle voice said, "Thank you for the tea, Issy. I was just…remembering. This house is…. Did I ever tell you about my childhood?" Isebella shook her head, looking up at her grandmother, who was almost emotionless, if slightly melancholy. "I think you're old enough now. Your Aunt Kitty was your age when she learned. When I was little, littler than Tresha, even…. I wasn't showing signs of magic."

Isebella listened, horrified by the heaviness in her grandmother's voice, but desperately curious.

/-/

Cynthia's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at the ceiling, mildly dazed. She knew she couldn't be in her dormitory or her bedroom at the manor, and it took a long moment before she realized she was at the villa. She felt a cool sensation on her bare skin, and she remembered bringing the woman she met in a London club to the villa with her, going all the way to Marseille to…to…

Her cheeks went hot as it all came rushing back, the sensation of Rhiannon touching her skin, the desperate release and pleasure that overcame her as she allowed her body to give in to the sensations Rhiannon was driving her to. Cynthia opened her eyes and saw the beautiful, pale older woman beside her, nude and perfect. Cynthia cautiously raised a hand to Rhiannon's breast, recalling how those cool breasts had felt against her lips, in her mouth, on her hands. She remembered Rhiannon's cool hands sliding through her hair as she suckled those breasts hungrily, eager to please.

"Good morning, darling," Rhiannon said, stretching and smiling in a feline way. "I see you haven't run off on me."

Cynthia couldn't explain it, but she didn't want to run away. A tiny part of her told her how her family would be worried, that her father would be panicked, that her mother would miss her, but laying in this bed with this stranger, Cynthia felt further from her grief than she had since she learned of her sister's death. This was what she needed, this was why she went to London in the first place.

"I must say, this is a beautiful house," Rhiannon sighed. "But it's not going to do the trick, you know."

"How do you mean?" Cynthia asked, confused.

"If you want to forget something, Cate, you must leave it behind entirely, run from all the attached memories. Leaving England is only enough if you don't have associations where you go. You said this is a family home. Have you vacationed here with your sister?"

Cynthia felt a stab of loss and pain as she looked around the room, and she realized there were drawings Cecilia had done when they were children, a few toys the girls had shared when they were young. Rhiannon was right. This room, this whole property was tied to her sister, and it wouldn't be the right place to escape from her sister. She felt a small prickling of tears in her eyes, and she asked Rhiannon what to do.

"For now, just let it out," Rhiannon said, caressing Cynthia's hair and pulling her head to Rhiannon's chest. "You just have a good cry, darling, and when you're feeling spent, we can decide where to go from here, shall we? It's just a question of moving and growing and changing, until nothing tied to the pain is left. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Cynthia nodded as she cried into Rhiannon's bare chest, and she knew she would do whatever was necessary to keep from feeling like this, even if it was running to the other end of the earth. She trembled against Rhiannon's body, which seemed warmer the longer she pressed against it, and she allowed her grief to consume her, with an underlying gratefulness to Rhiannon for helping her as the woman's hands teased Cynthia's scalp, neck, and back with gentle, teasing touches.

/-/

Cara watched the younger children chase each other around the ballroom, squealing with delight and pleasure as they were oblivious to the cares and weight of age and darkness. She wished she could be like them, for a moment. She wished she had a childhood like theirs. Even the one happy memory she had, twirling and happy in a party dress, ended with being tortured by her father. If it hadn't been for Sirius, she didn't think she'd have any happy memories at all.

Jowan sat beside her, her third grandchild, and Caroline's eldest. Hard to believe he was a couple of years from graduating, joining the real world. Harder to believe Cynthia would be there in a few short months.

"Issy told me, Nanna," he said gently, kissing her hand. Some days, Jowan reminded her of her son, and she supposed it was his father in him. Damon was a sweet man, always had been. Steady, giving, dependable. Small wonder the school-age children Caroline and Damon had were all Hufflepuff, thus far. "I'm sorry it happened to you."

"No need for you to be sorry," she said, smiling at him. "And before you tell me you're sorry I'm here, you children have given me plenty of happy memories here. I still remember your first birthday party in the dining room, purple frosting all over your hair." Jowan laughed and Cara kissed his cheek. He took after Fabian, she supposed, but with Sirius's hair. Very bizarre, but not unattractive.

"Thank you for taking care of us, Nanna," he said gently.

She felt a stab of terror again and she stood abruptly, pacing a few times, feeling anxious.

"Something is wrong," she muttered, more to herself than anything.

"Is it because of Celia?" he asked, his voice tight, but steady.

"I don't know," she said, rubbing at her temples. "I don't know. I haven't felt this for so long, not like this…."

Not since almost losing Catherine, she thought, recalling her beautiful girl, pale and comatose in a Hogwarts infirmary cot.

Severus's signature – a falcon feather appearing in a flash of flame with a small slip of paper appearing suddenly – floated before Cara. She snatched it out of the air, and she managed to relax simply for knowing she wasn't going mad. But there was nothing to relax about.

Cynthia was missing, they were meeting, but she should stay at Prewett Manor. They would keep her informed, but she was needed with the children where she was and was not advised to leave. Cara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to think of all the issues they'd come through before alright.

 **A/N: So, the congregation assembles, life tries to go on despite the news, and Cynthia is going to leave France.**

 **Review Prompt: Where do you think Rhiannon will lead Cynthia?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: With Sirius's relationship with Catherine compared with Caro and Jason, does or did Harry or Catherine have that sort of overprotectiveness to either of their daughters? (Michand)**

 **A: Well, it's complicated. Harry definitely didn't have that sort of overprotectiveness, and he did NOT have favorites. I would say Catherine had that overprotectiveness for the first pregnancy and the first few years of Cynthia's life, but by the time she had Cecilia, the anxieties she'd had when pregnant with Cynthia were largely dissipated.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	4. The Search

**A/N: Here's Bonus 3! Everybody should really thank** _ **AvinaNox**_ **, who is diligently working to catch herself up!**

 **-C**

 _All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? – Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

James watched his son, trembling, clinging to Catherine, not bothering to hide his tears. Of all the things Harry and Catherine had gone through, James hoped losing Cecilia would be the worst of it. He couldn't believe Cynthia would be insensitive enough to just leave like this, but he supposed grief did different things to different people.

Sirius was chewing anxiously on his nail in the corner as Draco arrived, the last in the group Severus organized for the situation. Narcissa and Rabastan were passing out tea, and Remus was helping Jason organize a list of friends they could check with to see where Cynthia might have gone.

"Let's start at the beginning and stay calm," Severus said softly. "Cynthia is grieving, yes, but she is ultimately a responsible, level-headed young woman. Start with family and friends, familiar places. See if any trace of her movements can be found. We can move out from there. It's likely we'll find her within the day, and if we do not, we can determine what to do from there. Is Whitby running the shop?"

"Yes," Catherine said softly, tugging at her hair, which was the only sign James had that something was wrong. The force with which she was tugging told him she was quite a bit more disturbed under the surface than her demeanor showed. "He says he can handle it as long as necessary."

"I'll take care of talking to my children, and Caro's," Jason whispered. "Someone will have to talk with Colly Peakes."

"I can do that," Harry said, hastily wiping his eyes. "She spends quite a bit of time here. She's a good place to start."

"James," Severus said sharply, "you're her Head of House. Have you and Remus anything you'd like to bring to our attention that you've…withheld?"

James hesitated, glancing at Remus. He'd not wanted to block his granddaughter's chances at Head Girl when she didn't do anything worse than her mother did – when she was actually a much more innocuous girl than her mother ever was. But he supposed there was a time and a place for everything to come out.

Remus nodded, and James cleared his throat and said, "She has…snuck out. A few times." Severus quirked his eyebrow pointedly. "Quite a few times. Dunno where she goes. I expect it varies."

Sirius shuddered by the window and paced the room several times rapidly before he broke away to the kitchen. Catherine's face twitched, and Narcissa followed Sirius out of the room.

/-/

Laura took a deep breath as she read the note from Jason, settling at her desk. She'd read it three times over, but it still hadn't sunk in. It seemed impossible Cynthia, the most responsible child she'd ever met, would just vanish like this. She couldn't imagine what her father-in-law was like, especially after the funeral. She rubbed her jaw and wrote back, asking if they should talk to Gareth.

It was a long shot, but he might know something.

/-/

Catherine listened as Draco explained what his options were for involving official channels, and how to keep it quiet. He had a few people he could trust in the Auror department, namely Cora's father and uncle, and his own son was working as an Unspeakable and had some ability to accomplish things with no traces and no accountability, if need be. This seemed agreeable to everyone, although her father was still in the kitchen with Aunt Narcissa.

"What can I do?" she asked softly, and Severus looked at her, frowning slightly. She knew he didn't think she could handle anything, and inside she was certainly a mess, but she already felt she'd failed Cecilia. She couldn't just abandon her only remaining child.

"For the moment," Remus said softly, "it's important someone's here in case she comes back while we're looking. I don't think we should have anyone commit to anything further until we have a better picture of what we're dealing with."

The other adults of his generation agreed, and she knew she wouldn't have any further say on the matter. She traced her fingers through her husband's hair as he continued to tremble beside her, and she took a deep breath, staring at her brother. Jason was on edge, seeming to show every emotion she felt, and ones she was at least not aware of feeling. Catherine felt a stab of concern for Jason, wondering how he'd known something was wrong, why he'd shown up that morning instead of going to work.

Whatever the reason, she didn't think this was going to go well for him. He'd already been given a Calming Draught against his will, and Caroline had taken one before she went to her conference, although they all thought Catherine didn't see.

She just hoped she could stay level enough not to need one, because everyone who'd examined her health had agreed – it was a can of worms no one wanted to open.

/-/

Columbine was stunned when Mr. Potter came around, had a quiet word with her mother, and then asked if he could speak with her. He seemed very upset about something, and she hoped he hadn't found the booze she and Cynthia had been stashing at the manor.

"I have to ask you some questions, Colly," he said with a tight voice. "And it's…important you tell me the whole and complete truth, as much as you can."

"What's happened?" she asked, feeling very small.

He bit his lip so hard that when he began to speak again, she could see a bruise from his teeth.

"Cyn snuck out last night, and she's still not come home. We need to know where we might find her, and if there's anything at all you can think of, any places she might have gone, we need to know about them now."

Columbine's stomach dropped and she sat down on a bench, rubbing her eyes.

Why would Cynthia run away? Where would she go, sneaking out without someone else? She'd never done something without either Columbine or Gareth, and she'd certainly never been irresponsible to this level before.

"I…I don't know."

"My father told me you two have snuck out plenty of times," Mr. Potter said, sighing. "You're not in trouble. It would be so hypocritical of me to be upset with you when Cat and I snuck out all the time in school. But I need to find my daughter, and I need you to tell me absolutely everything you can think of."

Columbine hesitated just a moment, deciding not to mention the fake IDs before she began drawing up a list of places they'd gone, in both the magical and Muggle worlds, when they'd snuck out of school. The longer the list became, the darker Mr. Potter's eyes went.

/-/

Rabastan watched Sirius pace the patio, beside the pool. Catherine was inside with the dogs, curled up with a few of the puppies – Remus's suggestion. But Sirius couldn't seem to settle.

"She's a runner," he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should have known. My fault, really."

"How is it your fault?" Rabastan asked.

"She gets it from her mother," Sirius said with a bitter laugh. "Why face a problem when you can run away from it? Kitty's spent her whole life running from one crisis straight into the next, looking for escapes. But she has Harry. Not that it's always helped, but…she has Harry. And anyway, she gets it from me. I ran away from home. The sneaking out, the dodging consequences and authority…. It's all from me. If it weren't for Cat, I'd never have faced the music. This is all from me."

Rabastan didn't know what to say, because while he thought it might be comforting to find a way to tell Sirius it wasn't true, he had to admit his brother-in-law had a point. As interesting as it would be to drive the knife in deeper and make Sirius feel he was a harmful factor and influence in Catherine's life, Rabastan knew this was hardly the time or place. Instead, he watched Sirius nibble at his thumbnail anxiously. A disgusting habit, but perhaps better than the cigarettes.

Another detrimental influence on Catherine. The substances and their abuse. The escape from reality and stresses and consequences through drug and alcohol. All traced back to her father. An exciting and terrifying avenue of possibility unfolded before Rabastan, and he couldn't help saying one tiny, little thing.

"Perhaps," Rabastan said softly, "we should treat this somewhat like…before."

"How d'you mean?" Sirius asked, pulling his thumb down to his lip, pausing his nibbling.

"When she went to France," Rabastan said, his expression smooth and cool, as though this wasn't giving him just a small stab of pleasure and excitement. "A custodian, Harry for now, unless he needs to leave. Then perhaps Narcissa? Or myself, if Narcissa is unable. Someone to keep constant care of her. She is fragile, Sirius. That much is obvious. And as much as you love her…."

Sirius hummed, finishing the question with whatever negativity his current frame of mind could dream up, certainly better and more hurtful than the most cleverly crafted of Rabastan's barbs. Rabastan held his breath, hoping just a small amount that this could work, even just a little bit. Catherine was far too close to her father for Rabastan's liking. Always had been.

"Perhaps you're right," Sirius said sadly, frowning across the grounds.

The excitement was almost unbearable.

/-/

Sirius waited on the widow's walk as Harry and the others followed up on all the places Columbine Peakes could think of to look. He'd chewed his thumb down to the nail bed and there was nothing left but to suck on the raw skin underneath and think of how he'd failed his daughter and granddaughter. He was startled when Severus approached him, coming through the stairwell to the exposed walkway.

"I need to speak with you," Severus said, frowning.

"Is it Kitty?" Sirius said, leaping to his feet anxiously. "Or is it Cyn?"

"In the loft, please," Severus said, his eyes dark. "It's not exactly about that. It's more about…your son. There's something we should have discussed a very long time ago, but after the talk I just had with his wife, it's unavoidable now."

"What's wrong with Jason?" Sirius asked.

He couldn't take more bad news. He couldn't stand the thought he'd let down another child, but he followed Severus into the loft and sat down.

"I've been studying ancient magic," Severus said, standing in the doorway, frowning down at Sirius, "and I believe we may have accidentally made a terrible, irreversible mistake."

/-/

James sat down with Jason and Harry to review how far they'd gotten on the list of places to check.

"I've gone through everywhere in Scotland already," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. He kept crying intermittently, and James wished he could make this easier. "There's…erm, a few places in Birmingham I've still got to try. And a pub in Cardiff."

"We can cross Brighton off the list," Jason said, sighing. "No traces of her there. Diagon and Knockturn Alley are clear. Harry, I wanted to ask you, Gareth seemed to hesitate when he looked at the list of places in London. Are you sure they aren't holding something back?"

"I'm not sure of anything, anymore," Harry said, his face contorting in pain as he rubbed his temples. "Dad, could you talk to Gareth? You've got good rapport with him, and I need to be here for Kitty as soon as I've finished in Brum and Wales. Leaving her and her father here together all day isn't going to help either of them."

"I'll go to London and have a chat, yeah," James said with a sigh. "You keep looking, and I'll send word if I've got any news.

/-/

Jason was in London when he got a message from Uncle James saying Gareth had admitted to one further place they'd gone – with fake IDs. A Muggle place, so Jason decided he could go home, change into a Muggle suit, and pretend to be a Muggle police officer. He was afraid of being caught out, but he knew Aurors did it from time to time, and Draco had already promised to cover all tracks left, if necessary.

A bartender was washing glasses as Jason showed a Muggle-friendly photograph of his niece, and the man nodded thoughtfully, looking at it.

"Yeah, I remember her," he said, smiling sadly. "Beautiful girl. Guys all over her all night. Did my best to get them to buzz off for her, hoping I'd get to take her home." Jason's stomach lurched, but he just raised an eyebrow, waiting for more information. "What's she done, then?"

"Nothing, she's been reported missing," Jason said softly. "Do you remember when she left, and with who?"

"She left alone, as far as I could tell," the bartender said with a shrug. "Erm, don't remember exactly when, but it wasn't too long before closing. She went to the toilet to get away from the attention for a bit, was in there quite a while. Didn't actually see her leave, but I reckon I'd have noticed a girl like her walking out on someone else's arm. She obviously left at some point."

"Can I look around the toilets?" Jason asked. "If they're empty."

"Knock yourself out, mate."

/-/

Catherine waited as she listened to Jason's tale of the Muggle club, the traces of magic in the toilets, the strange signatures he found, and the thing called CCTV he viewed.

"She definitely left the club at around two in the morning," he said. "They didn't have access to anything beyond."

"I can tall to the Muggle Prime Minister," Draco said softly. "Missing girl, say I need access to Muggle CCTV. Better it we keep it off the books. I'll get Scorpius on it if he's got the time. Anyone before my time who might be capable of tracing someone like this?"

"Mad-Eye," the Marauders chorused, and a plan of action was drawn up. Catherine rubbed her arms, not fully comfortable relying on Muggle film to find her daughter, but knowing she didn't have much information.

"What about these magical signatures?" she asked her brother softly. "Never encountered anything like them before?"

"Never," Jason said in a whisper, pulling her back to the library while the elder generation was organizing the Muggle interactions. "I don't know what to make of it, Kitty, but I'll do some research. Caro may have some ideas. Is there anything you need before I go? I need to make sure the boys get dinner."

Catherine didn't want him to go. She knew once they had something to go on, she would be left behind. Her father would be told to work because they couldn't afford for him to be gone. She would be kept out of the way, out of concern she would become a liability. Perhaps she was.

"Just…find her. Please."

Jason kissed her forehead tenderly.

/-/

Columbine shivered, sitting in her bedroom, frowning at the wall as she waited for her father to come home. She had a horrible feeling he was going to be involved in finding Cynthia, and he was going to have a word with her. She wished she could explain to her father how terrified she was to lose her best friend.

But it wasn't her father who came to her bedroom, but her mother, back from the _Tribune_. She smoothed Columbine's hair from her face and closed the door.

"When I was in school," her mother said softly, "my sister's friend got into all sorts of trouble. It wasn't always her fault. Sometimes…sometimes people just don't know how to sort through things. Your father's going to help, quietly, as much as he can. We aren't allowed to say anything. The press wouldn't be helpful."

"You are the press," she sighed, burying her face in her mother's copper hair.

Her mother laughed with a gentle laugh, smoothing Columbine's hair as she said, "Blaise would be pleased you think so, but the _Tribune_ isn't all the press."

Columbine knew until _The Hogsmeade Tribune_ Editor-in-Chief, Blaise Zabini, formed the paper, before Columbine was born, the much smaller _Daily Prophet_ had a monopoly on news in wizarding Britain. But half the world seemed to work for the Hogsmeade paper, and it was easily the preferred news brand for as long as Columbine could remember. She grew up on her mother's Quidditch reports.

"Mum, I…I love her."

"I know, Colly."

"No, I…I love her. Cynthia. I've never told her." Columbine felt a panic in her stomach, saying this out loud. She'd never dreamed she'd tell anyone, much less her mother.

To her surprise, her mother kissed the top of her head and said, "I know, darling. I've known probably longer than you have. Don't worry. We'll find her."

/-/

Cynthia closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of another body against hers. She couldn't believe she'd never understood before how important pleasure was. She'd devoted herself to school, to learning, to awards, and for what?

But this, this sensation, this delicious feeling of warmth and pleasure and – dare she think it? – love, this was something worth devoting herself to. She hardly managed to think coherent thoughts, much less grieve and wallow in guilt over her baby sister. She had already bought the tickets, as Rhiannon suggested, and they were leaving in the morning. She'd never needed a passport before, as the Squibs who covered customs took Ministry papers, but she was able to fashion her fake ID into one easily. If she went halfway around the world, it didn't matter to Cynthia.

In that moment, reaching her climax, screaming out her lover's name, nothing but the power of her euphoria mattered to Cynthia.

 **A/N: So, the search is on, something's wrong with Jason, Catherine's afraid of being left behind, and Rabastan is messing with Sirius's head.**

 **Review Prompt: Guesses on what's wrong with Jason?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Catherine start drinking and smoking again? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Great question! She will not, but that's not to say she won't be tempted, as will others. Remember, her period of substance abuse was much shorter than her father's was. Catherine's too afraid of what would happen to fall into it again, and you can't bet neither she nor Sirius will be left alone long enough to pick up the habit again.**

 **Cheers !**

 **C**


	5. Cold

**A/N: You guys are fab! Here's Bonus 4 for the week!**

 **-C**

 _But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness. – Dreams, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Cara rubbed her forehead as she listened to her grandchildren play. Narcissa had been the intended person to stay with Catherine while Harry was searching, but Narcissa had taken ill and it was decided Rabastan would stay with her, instead. The one comfort Cara had was that Rabastan would know well how to deal with a fragile person, as he'd sometimes dealt with Cara in her childhood and adolescence. She had few clear memories of him, but the ones she had were fond.

"Nanna?"

She looked up to see her sweet Zenia blinking up at her with doe-eyes. She wondered where Zenia had gotten this innocent face from, as Caroline never had such a face, and Cara supposed it must have come from Damon.

"What do you need, darling?" Cara said, smoothing Zenia's hair.

Sirius had mentioned they needed to keep an eye out for Jason, but he hadn't said why. Laura mentioned he wasn't sleeping well, but neither was Cara of late. It was probably nothing, but if he felt a need to keep an eye on another child, well, she wasn't about to argue with him about it.

"Can we have ice lollies?"

Cara knew they weren't strictly supposed to have them without their mother's say-so, and it was the middle of winter, but Caroline was still at her conference and Damon melted when his children asked him for anything, and Cara could see no harm in it. She didn't have the heart to deny a grandchild anything at the moment, and Caroline would forgive her.

"I think we have strawberry," she said with a wink.

/-/

Jason couldn't figure why his father and Severus sat him down, but his father was chewing on his thumbnail and Severus was frowning out the window of his Hogwarts office, frowning down at the grounds below.

"How much do you know about ancient magic?" Severus said softly, and Jason realized this was addressed to him.

"Erm, not much. Just enough to know about Caro's condition."

"It's separate, but related," Severus said softly. "Emotions are the basis of all magic, Jason. Strong emotions in vulnerable times of formation of the magical core can be the most powerful spell, and love and fear are the strongest emotions. And when those things combine, they can create an irreversible magic, Jason."

"I don't understand," Jason said, glancing to his father, who was distressed and anxious. "I need to be looking for my niece."

"Jason, I'm sorry," his father said, pained. "I never meant…. I never realized…. I mean, I didn't know."

Jason frowned, and he listened as Severus explained that the extreme emotions of his parents – particularly his father – at his birth, and during his gestation, had accidentally worked a particularly powerful ancient magic.

"You are tied to your sister," Severus said darkly. "When she was in trouble, you always knew. Even when you didn't know she was. And now it seems to have transplanted onto your niece. Perhaps through the same sort of fetal bond instigating your tie to your sister."

Jason shivered. The lack of sleep, the anxiety, the restlessness…. All a manifestation of his father's fears and love for Catherine. It didn't take much to tie the same to his sister's fears and desire to have Cynthia, and all the struggle they had to have her in the first place.

"Oh, Dad," he sighed, watching his father shaking violently in the chair. Severus went upstairs, leaving the father and son alone together.

/-/

Caroline had been instructed not to discuss the matter of her niece with anyone, and she listened to the idiots at the conference drone on for what felt like ages before she snuck out to get some water.

"Care for a glass of wine, Madam Prewett?" the boy from the wait staff said, smiling brightly.

She raised her eyebrows at him, snorting.

"A word of advice, lad," she said, taking her water and sneering at the wine. "If you're planning to move up in your line of work, keep in mind proper address."

"Madam?"

"It's Mrs. Prewett as long as my mother-in-law is alive. And long may she live. Just as my mother is Madam Black and my sister-in-law is Mrs. Black, et cetera. Lucky men, it's all the same for them. No wine for me, ever."

Especially not with the potion Severus Snape had given her to keep her magic in check.

"Apologies, Mrs. Black," he said, smiling weakly. "First job."

She hummed, taking her water and wondering what to do with her next dose. She needed to take at least one more before she went home and could discuss what to do about calming herself with Severus or Aunt Lily. She slipped back into the conference room where experts were schmoozing and flattering each other.

"Mrs. Prewett," a nasal woman said, whose name was unimportant for memory, as far as Caroline was concerned. "My dear, Geoffrey was telling me you were an Animagus while you were at school!"

"Indeed, I was," Caroline said in a bored drawl. "As was my father while he was at school. Necessity breeds and all that. Professor Potter taught me."

"Necessity?" Geoffrey asked brightly.

"Oh, do your research," Caroline said to the puffy, elderly man. "Animagus training is an excellent way to practice the tenants of self-control, and my…condition required quick study. Is there much more of this bloody conference? My family is still in mourning for my niece and I'd rather be with my children."

The nasal woman looked at Caroline with alarm, then glanced to Geoffrey as if to determine Caroline had really said such things, and then back to Caroline to tell her how long they had left of the conference.

It was too long, really, but such things couldn't always be helped. She downed the rest of her water and plotted a toilet break to take her next dose within the next half hour. She could already feel her control slipping through her fingers.

/-/

Delia shivered as she wondered about her husband's staying with Catherine at Potter Manor. It was very odd how such a thing would occur which could present a need for his niece to have a constant companion. Odder still, perhaps, in Narcissa's sudden illness. She couldn't imagine what might have happened on so short a notice. Rabastan had been almost…pleased to be called in.

Walking down to the cellar with careful steps, Delia felt the back of her neck tingle uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of finding – at worst, perhaps Cynthia's body, giving him a reason for Catherine to be distressed. At best, perhaps there was nothing.

She prayed there would be nothing. She didn't want to believe her husband's obsession for his niece could reach such depths.

Delia searched the cellar thoroughly, first for living persons, then for bodies, then for any trace of human cells to be tied back to a person – including her Cynthia.

Nothing. Delia found nothing, exhaling with exhausting relief. She sank to the floor of the cellar, pressing her hands against the cold stone walls and letting tears escape her eyes. They needed to find Cynthia soon, for everyone's sake. At the very least, she thought she might go mad with this sort of stress on her marriage, with the weight of her knowledge of her husband's desires haunting her.

She had half a mind to tell Sirius, but she was afraid. Not afraid her husband would hurt her. She was more concerned what desperation of discovery would cause him to do to Catherine.

No, Sirius wouldn't be the one to tell, if she ever dared tell a soul. After so many years of silence, Delia didn't think she could stand to speak the truth.

/-/

Jowan was home when his mother arrived, and he poured her a cup of tea, taking her cloak from her and hanging it on the coat stand. She was surprised to see him, but he kissed her cheek and asked how her conference was.

"Gareth spoke to you, then?" she asked softly.

"Sinclair," he said, whispering. "He was listening in when they questioned his brother. Why would Cyn run away?"

His mother's nostrils twitched and she rubbed her temples for a moment before she kissed his forehead and said, "Sometimes, darling, people deal with pain in different ways. We don't always do what's best for us. Especially when we're hurting. Don't you worry. We've got quite a little network of fixers running. Tell your father I'll be in my study, will you? I need to make a fire call."

"Professor Snape already brought something 'round for you, said he expected you at his office in the morning. Mother, is there anything I can do?"

She took a deep breath, clenching her hands into tight fists and shaking her head. He told her his father had the potion, upstairs in their bedroom, and she nodded, going upstairs without a word.

/-/

"Has she gone to bed?" Uncle Rabastan said, frowning after Ryana.

"Oh, be nice," Catherine said with a laugh.

He didn't approve of her arrangement with Ryana, nor of Harry's approval of it, but she supposed he'd done remarkably well to be so tolerant of the things he had come to approve of. He'd even funded the cure for lycanthropy when Harry's mother discovered it and had it mass-produced.

"I am nice, Catherine," he said, looking at her thoughtfully. "It's good to hear you laugh."

She frowned slightly, nodding as she turned to look at the moonlight over the pool. She doubted she'd do much laughing until Harry found Cynthia and brought her home, but it was good to have one small moment of even superficial happiness before the search began in earnest. She was surprised when her uncle kissed the top of her head and asked if she would go to sleep soon.

"I expect I'll go to bed, soon," she said, rubbing at an itch on her jaw.

She just didn't know whether she'd manage to sleep at all. Between the mess of emotions, the cold and empty space beside her in bed….

She had half a mind to sneak downstairs when Uncle Rabastan went to bed, just to have a warm body beside her. Ryana would be happy to oblige, happy to comfort Catherine.

"I have some chocolates, if you want one."

"No, I haven't much of an appetite, I'm afraid," she said with a weak smile.

"Perhaps tomorrow, then."

Catherine doubted it, but she nodded, supposing he'd got the chocolates specially for her. He was always finding ways to dote on her. She sat up with him for as long as she could stand before retreating up to her bedroom. She closed her eyes and shivered, feeling the emptiness of her bedroom. It wasn't possible, sleeping in this room, not tonight.

She took the elevator down to the basement and crept into Ryana's room. Ryana hadn't been waiting up for her, but she showed no surprise when Catherine slipped into bed beside her. The two women wrapped their arms around each other, and Catherine relished the body heat of another human around her.

/-/

Harry looked at the stills Draco had spread out on the table in front of him, Remus, and Severus. Cynthia.

"Took a train to France," Draco said softly. "I've a few guesses where she might have gone. But we can't be sure. Could Kitty feel the wards being accessed from England?"

"I don't know," Harry said, scratching his ear. "I'm not sure it's ever been tested. Why aren't we already there?"

"Harry, not even for family can I run an operation on foreign soil without going through at least the right improper channels," Draco said with a sigh. "I need to involve another department, and the right man in it, and you're not going to like what I have to say."

Harry closed his eyes. He knew precisely what Draco was going to say. He knew this meant involving the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, reading him in, getting him to play the game the way the _Tribune_ had agreed to play the game, courtesy of Blaise and Ginny.

"Draco, my daughter is gone," Harry said tightly. "I don't care what you have to do to get her back, so long as you get her. If you've got to call in Cedric Diggory, then call in Cedric Diggory, just find my baby."

With sad eyes, Draco nodded and said he'd have a chat with him soon, once they knew what to do if she couldn't be tracked to Marseille. As soon as Draco left the room, Harry choked out a small sob and Remus poured him a glass of butterbeer.

"I really don't want it," he lied. He did want it, but only half as much as he wanted a glass of whisky. But quitting drink was only half for himself, and he couldn't betray Catherine. His health and hers…especially if something were to happen to Cynthia, something irreversible, would be all they had left – them and Ryana and the dogs, like when they first bough the manor.

"Drink it," Severus said softly, "or I'll force it down your throat. I might not want to give you a sedative, Harry, but so help me, I will. There's more than your daughter at stake."

"What?" Harry asked, frowning and puzzled. "I mean, Kitty and I are hurting, obviously."

"Your brother-in-law," Severus said softly, "is the victim of an accidental nativity bonding. And it's been compounded. The greater the suffering to your daughter, Harry, the greater suffering to your wife. And he has both sets of suffering causing him a sense of urgency. The magic will stand, but his body will still require sleep. He will have no appetite, but he will still require food. He will need heavy medication to help him function, and any medication at all is a risk, as you well know. We need to find Cynthia, and we need to find her quickly, before we have a severe consequence for Jason."

Harry wasn't completely sure he knew what a nativity bonding was, but whatever it was, it didn't sound good for Jason. Accidental was good, but not if it was causing Jason such suffering, including hints it might cause something a bit worse than suffering.

"Alright," Harry said, rubbing his neck with both hands. "Alright, I'll drink it. I just…. I don't understand why I have to leave her. Before…."

"Before it was just the two of you, and you needed healing as much as she did," Remus said gently. "Now, that's your daughter out there, and from the way of Jason's suffering, she's undergoing something substantial, whether she is aware or not. You need to find her. Catherine's condition is bound to get worse, Harry, but if worse comes to it, we can medicate you. We can't risk it with her, not unless there's no other option."

/-/

Rabastan tugged at his hair, frustrated. He despised Ryana Cotton.

Of course, she was a perfectly agreeable woman, not especially attractive or intelligent, not particularly offensive or rude, and yet everything about her was horrendous to him.

It was the knowledge she was part of the disaster with the drugs almost destroying Catherine. The knowledge she had been the unknowing instrument of Karkaroff in his attempts to ruin Catherine. The knowledge she was somehow an institution of Catherine's marriage, a lover with permissive access to everything he craved but could not have.

Somehow, some way, Ryana's presence was responsible for everything. Rabastan didn't know how to fully prove or rationalize it, but he knew it was true. Somehow, some way, he knew he had to remove Ryana from Catherine's life. Acting alone, his options would be extremely limited and must be exercised with caution, but he knew it had to be now. He might never have such an opportunity again.

An opportunity to free Catherine from the influence of Ryana Cotton. An opportunity to spend time alone with her at Potter Manor, with all the temptations offered. An opportunity to, if he dared, take what was the most precious thing he could imagine.

The rush of excitement through his veins was enough to finalize his thinking. Ryana Cotton must go, and it was only a question of how soon he could get away with it. With careful charmwork, it could be done tonight, but in case of an accident – which must always be accounted for – Rabastan thought he ought to do it in the morning, or sometime while Catherine was meeting with Harry and the others.

The planning unfolded in his mind, and Rabastan could see clearly all that must be done, and how. He had no qualms. He'd done worse things for lesser reasons. For family, for Cara, for the Dark Lord. But they were not Catherine. They were not the ultimate manifestation of his desires and needs. He would do all the things he'd done for them, and more, if necessary. Alone, if necessary. The more he turned it over in his mind, the more obvious it appeared. So obvious, in fact, Rabastan wondered he hadn't thought to deal with the matter years ago.

He slipped upstairs to her room to see if she was sleeping, but her bed was empty. One short moment, he panicked, before he realized she must have gone down to sleep with her harlot in the basement. He let his nails dig into the palms of his hands, overcome with frustration and anger at the final straw. Whatever he might have been hesitating on, it was all clear to him now.

It must be done, for his sake and for Catherine's. He could not allow such a thing to continue any longer.

 **A/N: So, Caroline is clinging to control, Cedric is called in, and Rabastan decides to do what he feels must be done.**

 **Review Prompt: How do we see this Cedric business going?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will this part be shorter than Part 2, since it's not covering years of students at Hogwarts? (danceegirl92)**

 **A: Spot on! Yeah, much shorter. There's 38 chapters, and I'm quite near finishing the pre-write. Much more on the lines of Part 1.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	6. Onward

**A/N: Y'all earned the Fifth Bonus while I was at work! Here it comes!**

 **-C**

 _All I want is to see you smile, if it takes just a little while. I know you don't believe that it's true. I never meant any harm to you. – Don't Stop, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Cynthia arrived in Amsterdam with Rhiannon and felt a shiver run through her as she looked around at the gloom that hung over the city like a tatted blanket. It was pretty enough, had its own charm, but the people she passed on the street didn't meet her eye, didn't have any interest in her.

"Where will we stay?" she asked Rhiannon.

"We have a couple options," Rhiannon said with a shrug. "We can pay to stay somewhere, which will deplete our finances faster, or we can find somewhere to stay that's been abandoned."

Cynthia wasn't keen on the idea of squatting somewhere, but she knew eating was just as important as finding shelter, and it might be difficult with the little bit of Muggle money she'd been able to scrounge up. She'd never really had to operate on a budget before, coming from the wealthiest family in wizarding Britain.

"What d'you think?" she asked Rhiannon.

"I think the abandoned route isn't a bad one," Rhiannon said with a shrug, caressing Cynthia's arm with her cool fingertips. "But if you're not comfortable, we can adjust."

"Alright," Cynthia sighed, slipping her fingers through her hair. "Alright, let's play by ear, get a look at prices and see what we can find that's abandoned. We probably shouldn't go too far out of the city, right? If we're planning to move on again."

"Very clever of you," Rhiannon said with a smile, leading Cynthia down a bleak-looking alleyway.

/-/

Sirius frowned as students began arriving for the start of term. No Headmaster, as Severus was having words with people at the Ministry about getting international clearance to search quietly for a missing person abroad. No Head Girl, as Cynthia was still missing. Of course, all this was Remus's responsibility, as Deputy Head.

"I need your help," Remus said to James gently. "While Severus is gone, I need you to take on extra duties, a temporary Head of House."

"Not Sirius?" James asked, as though Sirius weren't sitting right there.

"He doesn't want me doing it," Sirius said softly, "because I'm barely in a fit state to teach, much less take on extra responsibilities."

His two oldest friends said nothing, watching Sirius nervously, but he stood abruptly and left the Hall. He'd come back before dinner, but he couldn't stand the waiting. Any minute, Columbine Peakes would come through those doors alone, as she never did, and Sirius would have to face reality: Cynthia was not coming back to school – possibly not ever. All he wanted was to see his daughter, but he knew he wasn't supposed to. He had half a mind to go back to the cottage and curl up with Cara, never to leave her side.

But he had responsibilities, and Sirius knew what was expected of him.

/-/

Cara waited up for Sirius, knowing he was going to come back after dinner, the first one back for the new term. She knew it would be difficult for him, just as it had been difficult to face Jason, to sit down and discuss what had accidentally been done in the leftover fear from the war. Jason took it well, mature and weathered enough to understand the desperation of his father's love for his children, and perhaps especially for Catherine.

The door to the cottage swung open and Sirius came through, frowning, rubbing at his thumb where he used to have a nail. She half-wished he'd go back to cigarettes.

"I hate this," he said softly, curling up with her, kissing her neck. "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm a runner. Kitty became a runner. Now Cyn's a runner? Cat, it's my fault."

Knowing Sirius's stubbornness, she knew there was no point trying to make him see sense. Escape was a perfectly valid method of coping, and because he passed on the predilection to their progeny, it didn't mean he could be held responsible for all their behavior.

"I want to hold Kitty," he said, closing his eyes and laying back on the sofa. "Not Kitty now, but the little girl who was jealous because Harry got a wand and she couldn't have one yet." His lips twitched into a small smile. "She was so beautiful, so naïve, so full of life and possibility. If there were a way to give it back to her, Cat, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"She did have it again," Cara said, running her fingers through his hair. He showed the signs of age, but not the way his friends did. He wasn't as gray, wasn't as lined, had no spots or flecks or anything else that pointed to age. "In Celia."

Sirius's face contorted in pain and he croaked out, "I can't take any more of this, Cat. I can't lose anything else. My…. I just can't do it anymore."

/-/

James sat down with Remus and said, "Any news from Severus?"

"Not yet," Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead, trying to calm his nerves, no doubt. He hated acting as Headmaster, although he was very good at it the few times Severus was required elsewhere. "You know, I always hoped, maybe more so when Lily cured me, we would be able to settle into normal lives once the wars were over, once the children were grown. But it feels like the drama of Sirius's family life is all I have for a social life anymore."

"You need to get out more, Remus," James said with a wink and a smile he didn't feel. "I keep telling you, we'd be happy to find you a bird."

"A bit past my prime, mate," Remus sighed. "What reasonable bird wants a stodgy professor in his sixties?"

"One who'd take a stodgy professor at any age," James said, shrugging. "I can see the wanted adverts now. Rugged professor seeks tea and companionship. Likes raw steaks, justice, and Muggle romance novels."

"For the hundredth time, _Sense and Sensibility_ is _not_ a romance novel!"

James knew, having heard Lily make the same arguments for decades, but he so loved poking fun at them. He wasn't getting the usual level of pleasure from it, but there was something to be said for enjoying his time, even when the world outside was full of uncertainty and chaos.

"I think Sirius is thinking of retiring," Remus said with a sad smile. "Once Cyn's found, at the end of the year. Whenever. He doesn't get enjoyment out of it anymore, even with all his grandchildren here. He's brilliant as ever, but the only time he really enjoys is with Cate, or at Harry and Kitty's place, playing with the dogs or watching films. Or spoiling Caro's pack."

James grinned.

"It's not a pack. It's a Quidditch team waiting to happen."

"You'll be waiting a long time, mate. Most of them don't even like flying."

James was still determined, although he was less enthused thinking how his one grandchild who'd played was dead. His stomach turned and he asked if Remus wanted any brandy.

/-/

Jason slipped into bed beside his wife, but he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the heart to tell her about the nativity bond, about the hesitant suggestion he take something to sleep. Jason didn't want to take something, because every time he thought of potions and pills, he would think of Catherine and how she tempted fate for her self-medication. He knew it was different, but the thought still terrified him.

And worse, what if something truly awful happened, something he should feel through the bond, but he didn't because he had drugged himself for a few measly hours of rest? The anxiety was awful, and the restlessness was a difficult thing to suffer through, but he could suffer through all of this and more, long as he had hope Cynthia would come home.

"When they go to France," Laura whispered into the darkness beside him, "will you go with them? Because if you want to, you don't have to worry about the clinic. I can hold down the fort for however long it takes to find Cyn."

Jason swallowed, wishing he could be more supportive to his own family, who were surely hurting. Instead, he whispered back, "Yeah, love, I have to go. Kitty's in no fit state, and I need to do this for her."

He only hoped the silence was one of understanding.

/-/

Gareth waited up in the Hufflepuff common room for Jowan to come back in from rounds. His cousin had words with Aunt Caroline about what Cynthia had done, but neither boy had been able to understand why she'd done it.

"Colly's a mess," Jowan said, referring to his other cousin, Columbine, a friend of Gareth and Cynthia. "Coreen says she hasn't stopped crying."

"Yeah, she'd mentioned it to me, too," Gareth said with a frown. "Joss made sure the girls went to bed."

He referred in one to Jowan's school-aged sisters, all of whom were in Hufflepuff with them, and Joceline Lestrange was Jowan's cousin's cousin from his father's side, and a Hufflepuff in Jowan's year.

"That was good of her," Jowan said with a frown. "Gareth, I know Cyn's important to you. I don't always understand it, but I know she's very important to you. What if they don't find her, or…or they find her…."

Gareth didn't want to think about it. Cynthia had always been his favorite cousin, the one kind enough to let him join in with her and Columbine, the one everybody loved. Even more important than how it would hurt him, should they not find Cynthia alive and well, and soon, Gareth knew how important it was for his aunt and uncle after Cecilia's death, and his grandparents.

"They'll find her," he said firmly. "They'll find her."

They had to.

/-/

Jowan didn't want to get back to routine. It seemed wrong to go back to classes, preparing for his OWLs, squabbling with Joceline and Sinclair. Normality was wrong when Cynthia was missing. He'd heard his grandfather telling Professor Lupin how Cynthia might be in Marseille, and Jowan hoped it were something so simple.

After his Ancient Runes course, Jowan lingered to speak to his Uncle Aeson, the course's professor.

"If you need a chat, Jowan, I haven't got a lot of time now, I'm afraid," he said, checking his watch. "I'm due for a meeting with the head of the Continental Dueling Corps for lunch."

"I just…needed to talk to someone who knows," Jowan said with a frown, rubbing his jaw.

Uncle Aeson clearly did know, or knew something about it, because he set down his case and sat across from Jowan on top of a nearby desk.

"Ah," he said, frowning. "Yes, I've had several students asking me questions, and cover stories are so tiresome. I imagine you've been fielding plenty of questions."

"Not so many as Gareth," Jowan whispered. "He's closer to her. And poor Colly doesn't want to leave Gryffindor Tower. Saxon says she's approached every time she steps off the stairs from the dormitories, and she always darts right back up."

The official cover story was Cynthia was taking time off for bereavement, which might have been believed. Except every official story at Hogwarts was second guessed, and the rumor mill was second to none. Uncle Aeson nodded and said, "I can't tell you any more than you already know, but keep your head up. I know it feels impossible, but they'll find her."

Jowan wanted to believe, but the look in Gareth's eyes the night before when he suggested they may not find her… Jowan knew if they didn't manage to find her, Gareth would be a wreck, just like Colly. And a small voice in the back of his head asked what would happen if she missed her exams, if she was missing for a matter of years, if his children had children by the time they had a proper sense of what had happened and where she'd gone. The possibilities unwound his mind and he rubbed at the itch in his eye, thanking his uncle and letting him to go his meeting.

/-/

Isebella held her head high as she walked to lunch with her clique. Saxon was glaring off anyone who looked like they might give trouble with nosy questions, and Olyvia and Nichola pretended it wasn't happening, as they weren't direct cousins with Cynthia and were thus spared the more intense curiosity toward the absence of the Head Girl.

"I must say," Nichola said mildly – of the Lestrange branch actually cousins with Isebella – as she poured herself some iced water, "I thought all the chaos would die down after the funeral. I suppose I have been wrong before, though."

"Issy," Saxon said, ignoring Nichola's blasé attitude, "I need to borrow your notes on Goblin rebellions. I loaned mine out, and what I got back was hopelessly disorganized. I need some help sorting them."

Isebella wanted to scream. They didn't understand, any of them. They hadn't seen the state of her grandmother after the funeral, the way her mother tried to sneak the potions she'd been given to take after Cynthia's disappearance. They didn't understand how this was changing everything.

"I don't know," Olyvia said gently, "I think you ought to borrow mine. Our styles are more similar."

"Excuse me," Isebella said, standing abruptly, ignoring the calls of her cousins as she left the Great Hall, pointedly not looking up to the High Table where so many of her relatives sat. She knew her behavior did not help the rumors belying the official story, but if anyone tried to use it as proof, she supposed they'd say she was upset by the loss of her cousin.

Not a lie, not a whole truth. She was still upset at Cecilia's death, but she could work through it. People had spoken about it, and there was no deception. Isebella couldn't abide by the idea she had to lie, that she had to uphold what she knew wasn't true because of a surname, and impact on the greater history they were supposedly a part of.

Jowan found her as she mounted the marble staircase, and he grabbed her arm.

"Go back out there, Issy," he said sharply. He didn't raise his voice – he never raised his voice to her – but her brother's eyes were hard and firm.

"No," she said in a his, hanging her arm free. "I'm not perpetuating this lie, and you shouldn't either."

"We have to."

"We have to do nothing!" she said, feeling fear and distress squeezing in her torso. "Don't you see, Jowan, nothing good comes of the lies?"

"Aunt Kitty," he whispered as she began to walk away. "Uncle Jason. Mum. They are living in this country. Do you think it would make it any easier for them to manage if people knew?"

She froze on the staircase, wishing she had an answer justifying the anger she felt at the falseness.

/-/

With her siblings back at school, Xanthia was the oldest Prewett left at the manor to help Nanna take care of her younger siblings. She would play with Ulric and Sorrel most of the time, leaving the twins with Valary, and occasionally leaving them with all three while she helped Nanna with Tresha – really the handful of the bunch.

"Nanna," she said when Tresha went down for her nap, "where d'you think I'll be Sorted next year?"

She would be starting Hogwarts with her cousin, Jemma Lestrange. Everyone was certain Jemma would be a Ravenclaw, but Xanthia was a little afraid she wouldn't be in Hufflepuff with her siblings.

"I see you as a Gryffindor," her grandmother said. "Maybe a Hufflepuff."

"Gryffindor?" she said anxiously. "So, I wouldn't be with the others?"

"You wouldn't be alone. You'd have Mora. She'd be third year. Saxon, of course. And Celia…"

She trailed off, frowning, and staring at a spot over Xanthia's shoulder.

Xanthia understood death, as a concept. She knew Cecilia was never coming back, and that a terrible thing happened by accident, that it wasn't anybody's fault. She knew she'd miss her cousin, but other than that, she wasn't sure she understood why so many people around her seemed increasingly distressed by the loss. Perhaps she simply wasn't old enough to understand.

/-/

Rose finished with the last of her students and she went upstairs to her brother-in-law's office, where Aeson was pouring himself a glass of wine before dinner.

"I disapprove," she said softly.

"The weakness for substance is in the Black blood," he said, raising an eyebrow. "My cousins and their spouses may have to keep themselves from indulgence, but it hardly means I must meet their impossible standards."

Rose shook her head and said, "That's not the point, Aeson. If you go to dinner with wine on your breath, Sirius is going to be all the worse for it. I think he's barely hanging on as is. Indulge later."

He considered this, and he set the glass aside, doing a stasis charm to keep it until after dinner.

"My nephew came to me today," he said, rubbing his eyebrows. "Ah, Jowan." Rose nodded. "Thankfully, most were too young to be told, but the ones who know, it's too much for them, really."

"Issy stormed out of lunch today," Rose said sadly. "Are they telling you anything? I feel like they're trying to keep us out of everything."

"We'll know what we need know," Aeson said with almost a warning in his voice. "To know more would be…pointless."

Rose wasn't sure she could agree, but she nodded.

/-/

Pepper the Irish Terrier hurried up the staircase to the library. She wasn't usually allowed in this room with all the books, but Mistress had been depressed of late, and had become much laxer with the rules.

The Grave One was setting a cup of the warm brown liquid in front of Mistress, and she thanked him in a numb voice.

"Where's Ryana?" she asked. "I haven't seen her all day."

"I believe she chose to stay with family," he said. "Said something about…well, about give you some space."

Mistress pulled Pepper into her arms, and Pepper showed her appreciation by placing her paws on Mistress's shoulders and kissing her face eagerly. Mistress did not laugh as she often did, but she did smile slightly at the attention from the eager dog.

"I wasn't aware she had family running around still," Mistress said thoughtfully, running her fingers lazily through Pepper's fur. "Did she say who and where?"

"No, nor did she say when she would be back," the Grave One said. "Perhaps she will write."

Mistress hummed, and when the Grave One leaned down to press his snout to Mistress's hair, Pepper warned him off with her fiercest bark. It was not so forceful as Penny's, or as deep as Sophie's, but it caused the Grave One to maintain his space from Mistress's soft, warm fur. Mistress pressed her snout to Pepper's head and a small rumble of an almost-laugh escaped her lips.

"Sorry, Uncle Rabastan. I just don't understand why they don't like you."

"Protective nature is a canine trait," the Grave One said, his voice tight and stern, but he left Pepper and Mistress alone at last with Mistress's cup of warm brown liquid, and Pepper perched comfortably on Mistress's lap, with her fur being gently scratched and stroked. Surely Mistress would feel better now, because Pepper certainly did.

 **A/N: So, Hogwarts is back in session, Sirius doesn't really want to be there, everyone's on edge, and Catherine's dogs don't like Rabastan – The Grave One. I'll put up the regularly scheduled chapter in a bit.**

 **Review Prompt: How do you think Severus and Remus run Hogwarts with so many of Sirius's grandchildren running around? What do you suppose their meetings are like?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan cause problems for either Harry or Sirius? (Michand)**

 **A: Erm, it's difficult to answer that very precisely without spoilers but…the important thing is he'll cause problems for Catherine, and Jason by extension. So, in that he causes problems for Catherine, he causes problems for everyone who cares about her. But mostly her, Severus, and Delia.**

 **Q: Cynthia, is she lesbian, or bisexual like Catherine? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Well, it's a spectrum. So, it's not exactly cut-and-dried. She's bisexual to an extent, but she leans much more to the lesbian side than her mother. She's not sexually turned off by men, but she wouldn't seek them out.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	7. Coming Storm

**A/N: Here's your regularly scheduled weekly update! Enjoy!**

 **-C**

 _Never, ever been a blue calm sea. I have always been a storm. – Storm, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Catherine knew the search was in full swing, and plenty of people were involved in finding her daughter, but she couldn't stop thinking how she was sitting at home, waiting. Harry hardly came home, didn't seem to sleep even when he was home, and would exchange quiet, whispered conversations with Rabastan while she played with the dogs or practiced brewing complicated potions for the hope of keeping her skills sharp.

"Cat?"

She didn't look up from her work, but told her husband to come in to her lab. She glanced up when she was able, and she saw the tiredness and wear on him, the extreme levels of exhaustion and distress. She wished there were something she could do to make this easier for him, but she knew he was the one searching because he was the one capable of handling the pressures of the search. As frustrating as it was.

"Diggory's doing his best," Harry said, kissing her neck gently. "He doesn't have the same level of contacts in France as his predecessor, and most of his focus has been on Germany. But he's managed to get a few discrete contacts to get us permits. We'll leave as soon as they can get them."

Catherine nodded, leaving her potion to simmer as she slipped her arms around Harry's neck feeling the solidity of him. She pressed her lips to his, drawing him into a kiss. With Ryana gone, apparently visiting family, and with Harry leaving to France for Merlin knows how long, she would have no choice but a cold, empty bed waiting for her at the end of every day.

"If I went with you," she said weakly, "I wouldn't be in the way."

"Kitty, please," he sighed as she suckled on his neck. She felt his fingers twitch where they were clutching at her back. "Please."

"You wouldn't even notice I was there…unless you wanted to," she said, teasing lightly as she nibbled on the tender skin of his throat. Harry groaned, his hands sliding up her back, toward her hair. He was considering, she knew.

"Cat," he sighed, breathless, "if it were up to me, I'd never let you leave our bed, but there's something more at play here."

She sighed, pulling away, trying not to feel the disappointment as he gave her that regretful look.

/-/

Harry sat with Severus Snape, rubbing his knuckles together anxiously. For the first time in years, he wanted a cigarette. He hadn't craved one since he and Catherine had to retreat to France in the early years of their marriage.

"Moody looked over the photographs and footage?" Harry asked, not looking at the headmaster. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Yes, and he had a few ideas of possibilities. We're looking for any faces in both places with her," Severus said softly. "Scorpius is trying to use a set of spells to see if he can read the ticket she's holding. Do we know what her fake ID says?"

"No," Harry said, rubbing his arms. "Gareth couldn't remember, and Colly said she changed it sometimes, depending on where they were. My wife's daughter, alright. Too bloody clever for her own good."

/-/

Rabastan watched Catherine run the dogs through a series of exercises, and he admired the smoothness of her hair from a second-story window. He could see the strength of her legs, despite their slimness. Her torso was so thin and trim, one wouldn't imagine she'd birthed two children. He licked his lips, resting his head against the window frame.

Cara no longer had the flush of youth, although she did not look elderly. And while Catherine was not young in the way her daughter was young, but she was still quite youthful, and Rabastan did not have to struggle to imagine how vigorous she would be in lovemaking.

Catherine did not laugh or give excessively positive praise when the youngest dogs did their exercises correctly, but the dogs seemed aware this was not down to a defect in them, but to a deficiency in the welfare of their owner. They were highly perceptive creatures, and a small voice in the back of Rabastan's head told him to get rid of them, but it was a bridge too far. The canines could not be held responsible for the ill in Catherine's world, and they could be managed much more easily than Ryana Cotton could have been.

She rubbed the back of her neck with a gloved hand and turned to look up at the house. When she spotted him watching her she gave him a weak smile. Rabastan decided she needed tea, something warm to welcome her back into the house.

He paused before going down to the kitchen, however, stepping into the master bedroom. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of her, and a bit of her husband on top of it. The scent of Harry was not precisely offensive, but Rabastan felt it took away from the appreciation of Catherine's ownership of the room. He closed his eyes and touched the chair at her vanity, feeling around for loose hairs left on the back of the chair.

No such luck.

With a sigh, Rabastan went back downstairs, put the kettle on, and listened intently as he heard Catherine coming in through the mud room. He licked his lips, telling himself this was not a time to lose control of himself. He could be close to her without losing his grip and giving in to the urge to wrap himself around her and never let her go.

He could, but he didn't particularly want to. He wanted to give in to his desires and feel her hair, smell her skin, kiss the smooth column of her neck and tell her she was beauty in perfection.

But he said nothing when she came through to the kitchen. Instead, he poured her a cup of tea and told himself he could handle the temptation.

/-/

Cynthia walked up the Amsterdam port, watching locals at their coffee shops and tourists with their guidebooks. Rhiannon told her to get out, see the sights while they were here – which suggested to Cynthia they would be moving on, perhaps soon.

The squat they'd found was in fairly good shape, perhaps recently abandoned, left with some serviceable furniture and good insulation. The windows were boarded, of course, and she found some signs of druggies using the front of it for their habits, but she put up wards, so only a wizard would be able to find the place, and only if they knew what they were looking for.

Cynthia felt a kind of melancholy as she watched a young girl with her young man, clearly on a date, comfortable enough in their relationship to be affectionate in public, but certainly early enough in the relationship to need to be physically attached at all times, not letting go of each other's hands.

She watched the young girl and thought of Cecilia, who had a similar build to this girl. Or, had once had. When she was alive and uncremated, and had a build at all.

This was the hardest part for Cynthia, to see her sister's ashes and know all the life force that had once been her baby sister was reduced to a pile of ashes, not to be buried, but to be dumped out in the Black Lake. It was a thing Muggles were doing with increasing frequency, but Cynthia found the concept of cremation disturbing, and she knew it had pained their mother to do it.

Of course, Cecilia had never known they'd have to enact her wishes so soon. She might have changed her mind a dozen times in a normal life span, but she didn't get the chance.

Cynthia supposed she'd have a traditional burial, a proper one, buried with her wand, under a tree or something, maybe on the grounds of the Manor, or by the sea at the villa.

She felt a horrible shiver down her spine and decided it was time to go back to Rhiannon. She was remembering again, and she didn't want to remember. Once she began to think of her sister, or the funeral, or the accident, or even her mother, she would feel a horrible, suffocating sadness, and all she wanted was to curl up and have it be over. What it was, she couldn't say, but she didn't want to suffer anymore.

Rhiannon was stretched out on the haggard sofa when Cynthia arrived back, and she beckoned Cynthia forward, sitting up enough to coax Cynthia into a kiss. To kiss comfortably, Cynthia knelt beside the sofa, eager to feel the sensations of Rhiannon's physicality and forget her misery.

/-/

Sirius sat with Remus, who was bringing the news from Mad-Eye. It was strange, meeting in Remus's office, but Remus didn't have much time out of the office or classroom while Severus was away looking for Cynthia.

"They've got more CCTV footage, stills and film," Remus said softly. "They're looking for patterns, for more sightings of her at train stations. They want the Marseille and Paris footage to see where she got off, but the French government is a difficult nut to crack, and Diggory's not back from Germany yet. I'm sure he'll help, though."

Sirius hummed. He'd never quite forgiven Cedric Diggory for the youthful obsession with his daughter, although he didn't really blame the boy. Diggory had hardly been the only one to find Catherine irresistible, even when she was at her most obnoxious and self-absorbed. Sirius just felt lucky she picked Harry instead of some idiot.

"What's he going to want in return?" Sirius said softly.

"Not everybody operates on favors, Padfoot," Remus said with a sigh. "He's a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. From everything I can tell in his life and career, he just feels very strongly about doing the right thing. You've never seen him clearly because he had a thing for your daughter."

"Maybe he still does."

"If it helps you find your granddaughter, are you really going to complain? You've never let something simple like using people get in your way before."

If Remus hadn't put a small lightness in his voice, Sirius would have been half-hurt by those words, but he knew they were true. Sirius had used, stepped on, even destroyed an awful lot of people since his days in the war. He sometimes looked in the mirror and couldn't find a hint of the boy he'd been, who ran away from home and vowed to never be like his family. He had friends, people he loved, a job he was good at, and children and grandchildren he would die for in an instant. But had he lost himself somewhere, or had he perhaps found himself? And which was worse?

/-/

Lily stopped by the shop in Birmingham, greeting Kevin Whitby warmly as she selected her purchases carefully. She always bought from her daughter-in-law's apothecary, knowing anything they didn't have, they'd get it for her quickly and with good quality.

"How is she?" Kevin asked softly. "I know about…Cyn. Not much, but Kenrick knows she's gone. How's Kitty?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Lily said with a frown. "I don't know how long the search will take…"

"Hopefully it will be over soon," he said earnestly, "but I'll be here as long as she needs. Can't even begin to imagine the hell she's in."

Lily could. When her son had done the unthinkable and killed someone to free his wife from the hold of drugs, she truly had several days of mortal terror, wondering what might become of him if their plans came to naught somehow. But they were so well-practiced at damage control.

This, this was different. All the damage control in the world wouldn't assure Cynthia would come home alive, well, and soon. She thanked Kevin for his support and left with her purchases, trying not to appear too shaken as she walked back out into the streets of wizarding Birmingham.

/-/

James watched Remus read a letter from Severus as they stood in Remus's office. Perhaps they should have invited Sirius, but James suggested he take some time to be with his wife. Cara was a stabilizing influence on Sirius, and as he was clearly so rudderless, he needed all the time with her he could get.

"Diggory's returning from Germany early," Remus said softly. "A good sign. We should be able to dig into France soon."

"You reckon she's still there?"

"I'm bloody hoping she's still there," Remus said, in a moment of uncharacteristic desperation and frustration. "If she's just run away for some space, Marseille is a practical, responsible choice. We'll find her, we'll bring her home, maybe get her some grief counseling or medication or whatever she needs. But if she's not in Marseille…"

James nodded. If she wasn't in Marseille, then her motives for running away were more unclear, or perhaps her record of responsibility and practicality had run its course, and how would they find her from there? For everyone's sake, it would be best if she was simply hiding out at the villa.

"Should we tell Sirius?"

"In the morning," Remus said, rubbing his stubbly chin. "We'll tell him in the morning. I wouldn't take away his time with Cate for anything. It's probably good for her, as well."

"Remus, he hasn't got any thumbnail left. I'm worried he'll take to smoking again."

"I'm worried, too," Remus whispered. "But we'll just have to keep an eye on him, Prongs. Between us, we can manage. I'm just glad we aren't responsible for managing him and Harry and Kitty."

/-/

Laura sat up when Jason came in, and she carefully measured out the dose of the potions Severus Snape left for him. He flinched away from them, but he took the dose without argument. She wished it wasn't necessary, but she knew Caroline was on a higher dose to keep her magical core in check. Laura could be grateful for small mercies.

"Gareth wrote," she whispered. "Says the gossip's unbearable. You remember the Hogwarts rumor mill. They'll come up with all kinds of nasty eventualities."

"Some of them might turn out true," Jason said softly, not looking at her, but staring at a spot of nothingness off the foot of the bed. "I have a horrible feeling she's not in France."

"What d'you mean?" Laura asked, shifting closer and touching his arm. He flinched slightly, but he relaxed under her touch. "Why wouldn't she be in France? That's where her ticket was for, wasn't it?"

"I know, but I just feel she's…in an unfamiliar place."

"Well, she's not spent much time in Marseille. Kitty struggles with it still, doesn't she?"

"No, unfamiliar, properly unfamiliar," Jason said, tugging slightly at his dark hair. "I'm sorry, Laura, I wish I could explain. I wish I could even understand! I just feel so bloody helpless. I don't know, I don't know how I feel or how I'm supposed to feel. I reckon I should be angry with my father for doing this to me, except I can't. I understand why he did it, now, even if he hadn't meant to. When Gareth was born, I thought of all the things Kitty and Caro had gone through in school and I had this moment of absolute fear his life would look like theirs. I thought, what have I done, bringing a child into this world with all its predators and pitfalls? He was so small, so vulnerable, so beautiful. Kitty was all that to Dad, and she was more because she represented the end of the hell of the war, the first thing Mum and Dad had in their marriage that wasn't necessity in a battle…. Nothing will ever be as precious to me as Kitty is to Dad."

"And nothing will ever be as precious to you as Cynthia is to your sister," Laura offered.

She found the ancient magic infused in her husband disturbing and frightening when they finally told her, but she understood why he wasn't angry with his father. Jason had always been level enough to understand accidents.

"When I was a kid, I wasn't sure my father loved me as much as he loved Kitty," Jason said, rubbing his temples. "And I hated it. I don't hate it anymore, as much as I know it's true. I just feel…heavy."

Laura kissed his shoulder blade through his shirt and wrapped her arms around him. He would feel the effects of the potion shortly, and then he would manage to sleep. She only wished he would feel rest, but perhaps this was too much to ask.

/-/

With the news of Cedric returning to England, Harry took advantage of what was probably one further night in his wife's arms until they found his daughter. Catherine was quiet, hardly saying a word as he slipped into the room, barely acknowledging as he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she hummed, but she said nothing.

"I love you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her slender body. "I love you so, so much."

"Love you, too," she sighed, tracing her fingers through his hair. "Do you really have to go?"

"I need to find her, Cat."

"I know," she said, closing her eyes and squeezing them tight, and he wished he could leave this to everyone else. "I just…Harry, I feel so alone."

"You have your uncle," he said weakly. "And the dogs are here."

"I need you," she choked out through tears. "Every time my world has fallen apart, you've always been there, even when I wasn't sure I wanted you to be. I can't…. Harry, _please_."

He swallowed back his reasons, knowing nothing he said would change her mind, and nothing she said would change his. No matter what, this was always going to hurt them both. But when Cynthia was home, he told himself as he kissed his wife, then he could return to normal. Then everything would be an imitation of all right.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia is fighting her body's need to grieve, Sirius is being eaten up with guilt, and Catherine and Jason open up about their thoughts and fears.**

 **Review Prompt: Who likes the puppies? I'm really enjoying the dogs.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Doesn't Cynthia think of the consequences of what she is doing to her parents? (Marcytherock)**

 **A: Right now, Cynthia's too wrapped up in her own overwhelming emotions to realize. In trying to suppress her grief, it's spilling out of her when she doesn't realize, and that's a crippling thing. She doesn't have the emotional capacity to manage this and think of what she's doing to her parents at the same time. It will eventually hit her.**

 **Q: Is Rhiannon just a random woman or is she just playing an angle? (danceegirl92)**

 **A: I wouldn't say she's a random woman. She's significant, although I don't expect any of you to guess, especially this early, who and what she is. There's no reason you'll guess at all. She's not someone we've met before. She is definitely playing an angle, but in her mind, she's helping Cynthia – not hurting her – as she uses her.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	8. Emptiness

**A/N: Your first bonus this week is FREE. Why? Because I just finished pre-writing Part 3! Everybody throw a party!**

 **-C**

 _There's distance between us, and you're on my mind as I lay here in darkness. I can find no peace inside. I wish you were here, holding me tight. If I had you near, it would make it alright. I wish you were here, 'cause I feel like a child tonight. – Wish You Were Here, Fleetwood Mac (Boyd & Einziger)_

Rabastan watched Catherine as she stood on the drive. Harry had just left for the Ministry, early hours of the morning, as soon as he got word that Cedric Diggory had arrived in London and was on the case immediately. He wondered whether Catherine would try something foolish, like following him to London in her dressing gown, but he was keeping an eye, just to be sure.

One of the younger dogs – he didn't bother learning the names of the ridiculous creatures – approached her, sniffing at her hand and rubbing against her leg, almost like a cat. Catherine sat on the drive beside the dog, letting it lick her face, tracing her fingers through the fur. He touched his fingers to the windowpane and wondered for a fleeting moment what it would be like to have her fingers trace through his hair. She had such dexterous, thin, nimble fingers.

After several minutes of watching her, she kissed the snout of the dog and stood, leading the creature back to the house. Rabastan took a few swift steps back, not wanting her to feel smothered, should she look up and see him watching from the sitting room of Cecilia's bedroom.

He fought the urge to seclude her with him, cut her off from the world and attempt to seduce her. Likely, Cynthia was at the villa, and would be retrieved in a matter of hours, a day or so at most. Rabastan would return to his own home, with his wife, and with the memory of how Catherine looked while sleeping to plague him. Reality would ensue once more. Nothing could jeopardize that, but the temptation was relentless, and growing every hour.

/-/

Cynthia took a long drink of the gin Rhiannon persuaded her to buy, and she felt the burn from the tip of her tongue all the way down to her stomach, the warmth radiating outward from there. The dullness was already impacting her mind from the first few drinks, and she hummed encouragement to Rhiannon, who was tracing kisses up Cynthia's naked body.

Amsterdam was cold, not quite as cold as Scotland, but the gin helped with the warmth. The strange combination between the gin and the coolness of Rhiannon's skin was erotic in ways Cynthia had become hooked on, and she allowed her body to relax and enjoy the sensation of cool kisses on her thighs. She still thought of Cecilia, but not when she was surrendering to Rhiannon's touch, and rarely even in Rhiannon's presence. She was encouraged to get out, see the city, get the food, and in those times, Cynthia felt the lowest. She always thought of how Cecilia would like or dislike a certain place, and when Cynthia confessed these thoughts to Rhiannon, she was always rewarded with mind-clearing sex for her honesty.

/-/

Cara rolled over into her husband and smiled softly to herself. He really needed to get back to the school, and she would have to go to the manor to take care of Caroline's younger children, but she supposed she could linger a little longer, have a quicker breakfast, or maybe make something at Caroline's. Her daughter wouldn't mind.

Sirius hummed with the contact, waking slightly as Cara opened her eyes and looked up at her husband's face. He clearly hadn't slept well, and she supposed he hadn't been sleeping well for some time. She touched his face, feeling the warmth of his cheek and the softness of his skin.

"Good morning," she whispered.

He swallowed and smiled weakly, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.

"You're too good to me," he sighed. He breathed in deeply and leaned close to kiss her tenderly. "Too bloody good to me." He sighed again. "Oh, Cat, what am I going to do with all this waiting? It's like Kitty in France all over again, except worse. What if she's not there?"

"We'll figure it out," Cara said, feeling fear tighten in her chest at the suggestion Cynthia might be anywhere but the villa. She knew Diggory would be on the case by now, and she had to agree the waiting was excruciating. But better Sirius didn't know all the ups and downs, or he'd be completely useless. "D'you want some breakfast before you go, or will you eat at the school?"

He groaned and opened his eyes again, looking at her with a sad, loving expression she'd seen far too many times.

"I don't want to let go of you," he said softly. "You're the only thing bringing the world into focus right now. Don't make me go back to the school. Please."

"Sirius, you have to," she whispered gently. "You have classes, and Severus is busy looking for Cyn. He can't take them for you like he did before. And Caro needs me at the manor."

"I want to go with you, play with our grandchildren," he whined. "Cat, what would you say if I resigned?"

"I'd say you'd be bored within the week," she said, knowing they could put this off for later. "Now, bacon or sausage?"

/-/

Jason took the morning off work to sit down with Cedric and the rest of the search, to hear the progress Cedric had made since he heard the news.

"I have permission for the CCTV," Cedric said, rubbing his hands together. "It should arrive by lunchtime, and I've put a rush on permission to have agents enter the country, pending the findings of the CCTV review. I've requested a very high number, which gives us wiggle room based on what we find. Mr. Moody suggested I leave it as open-ended as possible until we know what we're dealing with, and I quite agree. I expect to hear back on at least the preliminaries before the day is out, but by sun-up tomorrow at worst."

Jason nodded and said, "Does it make a difference Kitty's given signed permission for agents to enter her home?"

"It means one less layer of paperwork later," Draco said, leaning back in his chair. The meeting was in his office, which was the most secure place they could hold it, considering. "But it doesn't change whether we're allowed to put people on foreign soil. You know how it is. Red tape everywhere. Scorpius has clearance to run back and forth, so he's fetching the tape in person."

Jason saw a few people relax at this, but he couldn't relax. He knew he wouldn't relax at all until his niece was found. Even on his dose, he was restless and agitated, and he could see Severus eyeing him with a closed look that could only be concern as Jason squeezed his hands together.

This needed to be over, and quickly. For everyone's sakes.

/-/

Caroline greeted her mother warmly, asked how her father was holding up, and nodded numbly at the response. There'd been no need to ask, of course. There was no way he could be doing well. But Caroline couldn't afford to invest herself emotionally to any part of the mess, or she might lose the fingernail's grip she had on her own state of mind.

"Damon's already left," Caroline said, scratching her nose before gesturing into the house. "They've had breakfast. I'll be back at lunchtime. There's a stupid society tea this afternoon, but I'm thinking of cancelling. What do you think?"

"Go," her mother said firmly, pressing Caroline's hand with a strength she hardly ever used. "It won't be pleasant, and it won't be easy, but shows of strength are not without purpose, my dear. You may feel you are growing too weak to handle it, but you will gain strength from feigning it."

Caroline nodded. She wasn't sure how this could be, but if anyone understood these things, it was her mother. She tried not to tremble as she wrapped her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly, attempting to draw strength from the physical closeness. With Jason busy on the search and Catherine retreating from the public eye once more, with her father a wreck and her mother busy with babysitting both the children and the adults, it was essential Caroline keep the public face strong.

But she hated it.

/-/

Harry paced Cedric's office as they waited for Scorpius to arrive with the CCTV. Scorpius was a good lad, a Prefect in his own time at school, and apparently a high-scoring applicant for the Department of Mysteries. He'd been determined to make the program on his own merit, and not from his father's position. Much the way Draco had been about his own career.

"Harry," Cedric said softly, "I just want you to know, I'm not doing this for any nefarious reasons. I can be helpful, and Merlin knows you and your wife have suffered enough lately. I'm not trying to curry favor, with your wife or anyone else. It's just the right thing to do."

"I know," Harry said, squeezing his hands together as he paced. "I know. I don't care about any of that right now, I just want my daughter back."

Cedric said something softly, but Harry wasn't listening. All he could hear was the rushing sensation in his ears seeming to plague him the longer it took.

/-/

Rabastan put lunch and tea in front of Catherine, who sat at the table, staring at it blankly. He wanted to have news to give her, but apart from the news Cedric Diggory had returned, news from the Ministry was silent thus far.

"Would you like to go for a swim?" he asked. "The pool could be warmed."

"No," she said, pushing away the food and taking the tea. She stood, thanked him for a lunch she didn't eat, and said, "I'll be in the library. I don't want to be disturbed."

/-/

Cynthia wrapped herself in a sheet and sat by the hole she'd made in a board on a boarded-up window. It faced the harbor, and she could see the bleakness of the city below. She'd never had a particular desire to go to Amsterdam, but she thought the city was how she felt at the moment. Rhiannon had gone out, said she'd be back soon, and the melancholy was wrapping itself around Cynthia, seeping through the sheet, enveloping her. She wanted Rhiannon to never leave her alone, but she knew she couldn't keep her lover through clinging to her. She needed this woman, and so she would follow the ebbs and tides and see where she landed.

She took another sip of gin, feeling the numbness, but it did not take away her melancholy. It seemed to enhance the complex set of negative emotions weaving through her as she thought of her sister, of the empty bedroom across from her own, of the laughter in Cecilia's eyes when she played Quidditch, of the teasing Cecilia would do when she found out any of Cynthia's secrets.

Her beautiful baby sister, reduced to a pile of ashes the color of the Amsterdam in winter. Cynthia closed her eyes to hold in tears, and felt a throbbing, burning urge to bury herself in Rhiannon, to submit to the sensual blur of making love to the older woman, to releasing her pain and replacing it with unspeakable pleasure. She ached to be touched, preferably by Rhiannon, but perhaps by anyone at all. Perhaps anything would do, just to take up the space in her mind currently inhabited by pain.

/-/

Cara put Tresha down for a nap and went to the kitchen, sinking into a nearby chair and staring at the far wall, letting her exhaustion overcome her. She felt a small burning in the corner of her eye announcing tears to follow, but she didn't have time for those. She was too busy with the children, too busy trying not to think of the news sure to come soon, too busy trying not to worry about Caroline's state of mind as she went through her day, or Jason's grip on reality and sanity as he struggled through the search for Cynthia.

She didn't realize she was digging her nails into the wood of the table until she felt the expanding feeling under her nails. She sighed, pulling her hands up and pressing them on top of the table. She seemed to carry a ribbon with her everywhere, and she thought about pulling it out of her pocket now, but she didn't want to go down that road, not with everybody else struggling to hold on.

"Nanna?"

She turned to find Xanthia looking up at her with wide, puzzled eyes.

"Yes, darling?" Cara said, smiling, not rubbing at her eyes in case Xanthia hadn't seen how close to tears she was. "Is something wrong?"

"Will you come play gobstones with us? The twins will cheat if you don't."

Cara almost laughed. How unchanged the younger children were from the stresses of it all, particularly Melantha and Melesina, who were almost the energy of their mother incarnate in twins. Cara had actually marveled Damon and Caroline decided to have more children after them, and not just a child, but four.

"Alright," Cara said gently. "I'll just have a moment here and I'll be in the conservatory shortly."

/-/

James sat down during his free period with his son, Jason, Severus, Draco, and Cedric Diggory. His job was to report back to Remus and Rabastan, and Severus would speak with Cara. From there, they'd decide what to tell Catherine and Sirius.

"See this?" Scorpius said, setting a few stills down in front of the older men. "Definitely got off at Marseille. I believe she very likely went to the villa."

"See any familiar faces?" Cedric said, asking the whole room, in case someone recognized a face from other footage in England. The whole room shook their heads. "Well, that's promising," he said. "I'll go to Paris in the morning, and keep my hands on the pressure points while you go to Marseille and see what you find."

"Hopefully, we find her," Severus said darkly, but he glanced at Jason, who shifted uncomfortably. Jason seemed to not be certain they would find her in Marseille, but James wasn't willing to give up hope for one simple issue to solve.

"Why are you going to Paris?" James asked Diggory while Harry and Severus had a quiet conversation about when they should leave, hoping to go right away.

Diggory glanced at Draco, then back to James before he said, "Because the way we're doing this is loosely legal at best, Mr. Potter, and if you want things to go smoothly, then you need to let me keep the potential problems…occupied. It would be helpful if I had something to entice their attention with, but I'll see what I can do."

James hummed, hoping it would be enough, whatever Diggory managed to do.

/-/

Laura got the message from Jason he was going to France, immediately, and he wasn't sure when he would be home. She sighed, knowing it wouldn't be prudent to write him back. She had prepared for this eventuality, and she would have to manage without him. Simple enough, she supposed, to get a bit of extra help at the clinic. She only wished she wouldn't have a cold bed at night.

/-/

Harry stood in the villa for the first time in a very long time, and he felt a shiver down his spine as he climbed the stairs, heading straight for the bedroom Catherine had used as a girl, and a young woman. He stepped inside, half expecting to see his young wife, clad in white and staring wordlessly out at the sea. His chest tightened to find it empty, but he wasn't certain if this was good or bad. He could hear the other men downstairs searching the house, and he shuffled through, looking for some sign that his daughter had been here. He stepped out to the balcony, glancing down at the terrace, out to the beach. It seemed gloomy in the dead of winter, and he gripped the rail, the cold metal beneath his hands almost burning his skin. An ache washed through his bones, starting at the hands.

He jolted away from the rail, his heart racing.

Something was wrong.

Jason hurried up the steps, tears in his eyes.

"Did you feel that?" Jason whispered, pulling at his hair. Harry stared at his brother-in-law, astonished. "Did you feel the agony? It's hers, Harry, I just know it."

"But how?" he said, shivering. "Cynthia's? Jason, what just happened?"

Jason shook his head, clearly as bewildered as Harry. Severus came into the room.

"They're checking for signs of her," he said softly, "but she's not here anymore."

Harry staggered across to sink onto the bed, closing his eyes. He and Catherine made love on this bed, once, and now all he could feel was emptiness as he stood in this room.

"Did you feel it?" Jason whispered. "The house is full of pain, Severus. Cynthia's pain."

Severus hesitated, but he didn't refute the possibility Jason was right. Severus certainly felt something, probably like what Harry felt, when Harry touched the rail, but it didn't seem to affect anyone the way it did Jason, who was trembling.

So where had Cynthia gone, if she hadn't stayed here, and how was the villa somehow exhibiting her emotional state? Harry had a horrible feeling whatever the answers were, they meant something very dangerous for his daughter. And possibly for her search party, as well.

 **A/N: So, Rabastan struggles with temptation, Sirius wants to wallow instead of work, and the trip to the villa is a surprising one.**

 **Review Prompt: Pick three characters and tell me their favorite desserts.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Does [Cynthia] know what [her parents have] been through? (Marcytherock)**

 **A: Anything that's a matter of public record, yes. She knows her mother was assaulted at school by Karkaroff, and knows about the trial they attended as witnesses. She doesn't know about Padma or the drugs.**

 **Q: Out of all the dogs, which one is the most protective of Catherine? (Michand)**

 **Q: Great question! That would be Penny, the Irish Setter. She was the second dog they purchased, and now the oldest dog, since Paddy's death. She's very close to Catherine, and is especially distrusting of Rabastan.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	9. Groping in the Dark

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! I'm putting big news at the bottom, so stay tuned!**

 **-C**

 _She is like a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness. – Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Columbine walked through her day in a daze, trying to focus on her work. She nearly burst into tears when she was called to Professor Lupin's office, thinking she was about to be told off for her lack of attentiveness, and she hoped he would be understanding. It was so hard to tell, really. All the adults around her seemed not themselves since Cynthia vanished. And while she wasn't sure if she could imagine him as anything but kind, she hadn't thought she'd ever see Professor Black as anything but kind, and he'd been very short of temper lately.

She knocked on the door to the office, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"Enter," the tired, hoarse, kind voice said on the other side of the door, and she exhaled with mild relief. Columbine went through to the office and sat when he gestured at a chair across from his. He poured her tea, asked her how she took it, and stirred in the milk and sugar to her specifications. He even offered her chocolate and biscuits, but she declined, uneasy with this level of kindness.

"I know this has to be quite difficult for you," he said softly.

"How?" she said without thinking. He blinked at her and she murmured apologies, but he asked her to explain the question, and she realized she was going to have to repeat her rather impertinent question. "How d'you know it's difficult?" she asked, her voice less sure and sharp than it had been a moment ago.

He sighed, stirring a copious amount of sugar into his own tea, not meeting her gaze.

"You know, of course, I'm a werewolf. Or, I was. Before the cure was discovered." Columbine hummed. "Well, I was bitten very young. I didn't have friends until school. I understand how precious a best friend can be, Colly. And I know what it's like to lose one, although under different circumstances." His face contorted for a moment before he met her eye and said, "I lost a great many friends during the war. As did many of your professors. And with my friends, there was no chance of getting them back, like the way Nowell and Nigella lost Celia."

Columbine swallowed a few sips of tea before setting down the cup. It was well made, she knew. But she could hardly taste it. Nothing seemed to have much taste, anymore.

"She wasn't in Marseille, was she?" Columbine whispered. "That's what you've called me here to tell me. Cynthia isn't at the villa. She's…lost."

Her eyes began to sting, feeling terribly dry suddenly, but he sighed, fixing her with a sad, kind gaze. Why did he have to be so understanding? It was suffocating her. She wanted him to snap at her, to tell her it was her fault, because it felt like it was entirely her fault.

"She isn't there _anymore_. But there were recent traces. They've got some ideas, they're still in France, trying to piece them together and find her. They _will_ find her, Colly. But you must be patient, and you have to help, if you can."

She nodded, although she didn't know how else she could help. She didn't have any idea where her friend would go, if not the villa.

"Can you think of any places she ever said she wanted to visit? Probably abroad. A country, a city, a region?"

Columbine chewed on her lip, pressing her hands to the warm sides of the teacup, although she could hardly feel the heat. She tried to think of any time Cynthia might have expressed a desire to stretch her horizons outward. She sighed.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her eyes blurring and filling. "I'm so sorry, I can't think of anything."

"Alright," he said earnestly. "Alright, Colly. That's fine. It's okay. One more question, alright? Let me know when you're ready for it."

She took a few deep breaths and said, "Yeah, yeah. I can."

"Do you know if Cyn was experimenting with any particular magic? Anything unusual? Experiments of any sort?"

Columbine frowned. Cecilia was always the creative one. Cynthia had been a great follower of rules and order, which meant she could recreate anything, but she didn't have a great deal of creative capability or desire. Columbine couldn't think of any example of Cynthia experimenting even in small ways with a spell, or trying any unusual magic.

"No," she said, her lips twitching as the tears threatened her again. "I'm sorry, sir. I just can't think of anything. She really wasn't interested in that sort of thing. That was always Celia's thing."

"Yes, that's rather what I recalled as well," he said with a sigh. "Yes, I'm sorry to distress you, Colly. Do you need to take a bit of time off classes? Have you been sleeping? Madam Pomfrey would be more than happy to help you with anything you require."

She chewed on the inside on her lip, trying to think whether this was a good idea, or something that would make matters potentially worse.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I…I could do with maybe a morning off. But I don't want to get too far behind, you know? NEWTs and everything. Oh, Professor, what's going to happen with Cynthia's exams? Will she have to do the whole year over?"

"We'll see what can be done when we find her, Colly," he said gently, pushing chocolate biscuits on her. "Please, take some. I'll only eat them if you don't, and I've been eating them compulsively for weeks. I'll get quite fat."

She dutifully took some, but she couldn't taste a thing.

/-/

Cynthia's hands were shaking as she spread out the things she and Rhiannon had gathered. Alcohol was one thing. She'd used it plenty of times in the past. She felt she understood how it worked in her body, and how to use it responsibly. Whether this was false didn't matter. She had some level of comfort with it, in its various forms.

She shivered and said, "I don't know."

"It will help," Rhiannon said in her smooth, resonating voice. Cynthia shivered again, feeling Rhiannon behind her, caressing Cynthia's back.

"What's in it?"

"Does it matter? Have I steered you wrong yet?"

Cynthia considered this question. Much of the time, she did feel her pain was further away from her, almost physically. Between the alcohol and the closeness of Rhiannon, and even the physical space between her and the memories, there was some measure of better feeling from what she'd felt when she left.

"No," she whispered into the largeness of their squat. "No, you haven't."

"Then put it on your tongue," Rhiannon said, her cool lips grazing Cynthia's ear. "I'll have it too, little one. Don't be afraid. Just let go. That's what this is all about. Letting go."

Rhiannon was right, of course. The point of their jaunt to Amsterdam was to let go of all the pain and bitterness and guilt nesting in Cynthia, and she was still struggling, sometimes, to do this. So, she leaned back against Rhiannon, feeling a pleasant coolness envelop her, and she took the tablet and placed it on her tongue, feeling it dissolve so rapidly, she couldn't second-guess if she wanted to.

The room seemed to melt, and she wasn't even sure whether Rhiannon was solid anymore, or if she was simple an aura of coolness around Cynthia, swallowing up her body. She gasped, like she was falling into cold water, and she could feel the cold floor, hard and solid beneath her body. It felt pleasant against her nakedness as the room was spinning. Rhiannon's voice said things Cynthia couldn't parse as she seemed to cover and kiss and touch every party of Cynthia at once. A liquid was going in her mouth – she expected it was gin from the warmth that filled her – and Cynthia lapped it up eagerly, the fresh sensation causing a wonderful rush through her body.

She relaxed and let the world happen to her, closing her eyes to avoid the spinning, just letting herself feel.

Rhiannon was right, of course. Rhiannon was always right. There was no need to think of anything unpleasant, but simply to feel. Even the semi-unpleasant sensations plaguing her seemed to melt into the euphoric pleasure unfolding within and around her, and it didn't seem so bad to feel the loss and guilt and sadness when it melted into sensual pleasure and desire. The universe seemed to expand around her, and Cynthia wanted this to last forever.

Her climax – each climax – after taking the tablet was an almost spiritual experience, and she had a vague sensation she'd fallen in love, completely, in the blur and bliss of the way the world presented itself.

As the world melted back into coherent reality, Cynthia felt breathless, boneless, spent. She panted, staring up at the dark ceiling, wondering how much time had passed. A small candle flame nearby told her it was probably nighttime, but she wasn't sure how many hours she'd been wrapped up in the sensations of the tablet.

"That was amazing," she sighed, placing a cool hand on her breast. It was cold, almost like a block of ice, her nipple so hard she thought it might truly be ice. She was having difficulty deciding what the constructs of reality were now she'd experienced something other, something perhaps even better or greater. "How long was I out?"

"About six hours," Rhiannon's voice said, amused. "It will vary with each use, of course. And before you ask, let's hold off before you try more. Your body's been through quite an experience, and you need rest."

Cynthia hummed, touching herself between her legs and feeling that she was absolutely sopping, and was almost too sensitive to the touch. She wondered how many times she'd come, but decided it didn't matter, if she felt this sated.

"How much was this stuff?" she said, slowly rolling onto her side to look at Rhiannon, who was lounging on the sofa, smirking at her.

"Does it matter?" Rhiannon whispered.

A tiny, reasonable voice in the back of Cynthia's head – her Head Girl voice – told her it certainly did matter. They were staying in an abandoned squat because they wanted their money to last. If the tablet was quite expensive….

But if it was expensive, the humming in her body told her, it was worth every scrap of money it had taken to buy. She felt she'd come further from those six hours than she had in the whole time since losing her sister, and she eagerly awaiting an opportunity to try another dose.

When she felt steady enough, she crawled to the bed and pressed her face to Rhiannon's cool lap, feeling the wonderful sensation of Rhiannon's fingers through her hair.

"What is it you want, Little One?"

Cynthia hummed, not sure what she wanted apart from being close to Rhiannon. She kissed Rhiannon's knees, thinking perhaps she simply wanted to rest her head in Rhiannon's lap, to be near this woman she so admired.

"Do you want to thank me for helping you?"

She knew what Rhiannon meant, by now. Thanking Rhiannon meant using her tongue to bring Rhiannon's climax, which was not an unpleasant experience for Cynthia, certainly. She was so exhausted, it would not have occurred to her to offer such a thing, and she still didn't really think of _wanting_ this, but it did seem fair, and Rhiannon had given her so much.

It was the least she could do.

"Yes," she said, hearing a kind of sleepy, pleasantness in her voice. "Yes, I'd really like that."

"Very good," Rhiannon said, parting her legs to allow Cynthia's head between her thighs. "Use your words, pet. Ask me."

"Please let me pleasure you with my tongue?" Cynthia sighed, hearing an eagerness she hadn't realized she felt, a desperation she hadn't realized was in her until she heard those words from her own mouth.

"You may, Little One," Rhiannon said, pressing Cynthia's head forward, although she needn't. Cynthia's mouth watered just at the warm, pleasant, sweet scent of Rhiannon, and she pressed her mouth to the coolness of Rhiannon's folds, tracing her tongue along them, tasting the delicious moisture. She hummed into Rhiannon's body, feeling Rhiannon's fingers tighten in her hair, pressing her fingers against Cynthia's scalp.

Cynthia closed her eyes and lost track of time and space again, not the way the tablet had done, but lapping eagerly at Rhiannon's center, tasting the cool, delicious, almost intoxicating nectar coming forth from Rhiannon's body. It tasted better than the gin, and created a cooler sensation going down, settling in Cynthia's stomach in the same way, almost freezing her from within. The more she tasted, the more eagerly she lapped, hearing the encouragements from Rhiannon and lapping even more hungrily, desperately.

It seemed to take forever to have Rhiannon reach her climax, and Cynthia felt full, not wanting any of the food stores they had set aside for dinner. She curled up under the blanket Rhiannon scrounged for her, and felt like a child being tucked in to the sofa. Rhiannon pressed her lips to Cynthia's forehead with a swift coolness.

"Where are you going?" Cynthia asked sleepily, her eyes heavy and blurry.

"Don't worry, Little One. There is nothing to concern you."

"When will you be back?"

"My darling, I will be in and out so quickly, you won't even notice I'm gone. I'll be here in the morning, when you wake. I promise."

This caused Cynthia's shoulders to unknot, and her lids slid closed. Her breathing steadied, and she decided it wasn't something to worry over. Rhiannon would be back. She'd promised. There was nothing to concern her, and Rhiannon had never steered her wrong.

Her dreams were filled with that swirling coldness surrounding and enveloping her body, feeding off her emotions connected with her sister and replacing those sensations with excruciatingly delicious sexual pleasure. Even in her sleep, she seemed to come and come and come, and she whispered Rhiannon's name into the darkness of sensation in her dream, unable to see – only to feel. The whisper was like a prayer, or a chant, and every iteration of it off her tongue brought higher levels of pleasure, with greater measures of devotion. The dream melted into a haze of sated pleasure, with no pain left to speak of, and even in the dream, Cynthia craved another dose of the tablet, to feel those sensations all over again, with Rhiannon nearby to cover her and lead her into letting go.

Because that was what she was doing in Amsterdam in the first place, learning how to let go. These words echoed through the emptiness of the dreamless remainder of the night, reminding Cynthia there was nothing to be afraid of.

/-/

Cara was just putting the kettle on when she heard Sirius come home, but he didn't come straight to the kitchen the way he usually did these days, always wanting to be close to her. She licked her lips, moving toward the door to hear where he'd gone. It didn't seem to be their bedroom, but he'd gone upstairs….

She licked her lips, glancing at the kettle and sighing, taking it off heat and hurrying up the stairs to see if she could find him, but moving quietly. He seemed to be doing something very urgently in the study, and she crossed, pressing her ear to the door, frowning. There was a sound of something like thick paper, or maybe cardboard, being squeezed or shuffled rapidly, and she wondered what he was doing.

Knowing she couldn't just wonder outside this door, she quickly opened it, frowning as he scrambled to move something behind his back. His eyes were wide, the way her children and grandchildren got when they were caught with something they weren't supposed to have – especially the grandchildren. Cara swallowed, afraid of what he might be holding.

"What's behind your back, Sirius?" she whispered, but he stared back at her, clearly trying to think of some story, maybe even a lie, for what he was doing. He seemed incapable, and she crossed to him. "Show me."

He was already trembling, but at this he began to shake violently, and she grabbed his arms, pulling them around to see a half-squished carton of cigarettes, barely and badly opened, with no cigarettes missing.

"Sirius, what have you done?" she said, hearing the pain and disappointment in her voice and wishing she could take it back as he recoiled slightly.

"Please," he whimpered. "I don't have any nails left! I'm a mess. I can't think when I'm teaching, I can't focus when I'm with you. I can't even see my daughter. I spend all my free time during the day by the lake, as if staring long enough will bring Celia back, like this is all some bad dream. I need a fucking cigarette, Cat. I'm going insane!"

"No, you're not," she said urgently. "Sirius, please, think of your daughter! Think of Kitty, and how much she's going through right now! She can't have a cigarette, either. Can't have a drink. Can't have potions for her suffering. She can't even have more than two cups of tea a day! What would you tell her if you smoked one of these, right now? How would you ever look her in the eye again?"

His hand let go of the carton like it had burned him, and his face contorted in a sob. He collapsed to his knees, pressing his face into Cara's abdomen and shaking as she closed her eyes, fighting tears. All she wanted in the world, all that could make this right again, was for Cynthia to be found quickly and brought home, so they could try to begin to heal.

 **A/N: So, Columbine's struggling to get through her day, Cynthia tries drugs for the first time, and Sirius is losing his self-control.**

 **Review Prompt: If you had to live a whole month without fingernails, when would you miss them most? Personally, I'd have a bloody hard time getting my tea tin open.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Part 3 be the last? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: So, I've been holding this under my hat for some weeks now, tossing ideas around, trying to decide will-I-won't-I. And I've finally decided last week, and I spent several days this week just cranking out an outline.**

 **Unofficially, I'd been calling it Part 4, but we're switching the unofficial title to Part 0. That's right! A Prequel! I've outlined a Part2-length Prequel that covers from the last years of Orion Black's time in school to Sirius's Uncle Alphard dying, which means most of Sirius's school as well. There will be a small gap between that and the beginning of Part 1, wherein Sirius does lots of fighting and there wouldn't be a good stopping point.**

 **It's all outlined, and I've begun the first tidbits of pre-writing! It's going to be a long one, I'm not completely sure yet how long, but I would say well over 100 chapters. So if you want to know what Orion Black's great regrets of his youth are, if you want to see why Alphard Black never married, if you want to know about Cara's early life, or Madam Selwyn's very nasty predicament with Rabastan's father, you will not be disappointed!**

 **If this isn't what you wanted to see in a fourth Part, know that I'm open to the idea of doing an eventual Part 4 (if you guys request it at the end of this one) that carries on where Part 3 has left off (I have ideas, but right now the drive is in the prequel), and I'll also take requests for oneshots that fall somewhere else in the timeline. I'll start a list of requested oneshots and release them as I have time, so if you want to leave a oneshot request in a review or PM, by all means, start now!**

 **Q: Will Catherine sleep with Rabastan willingly because she is lonely or will he use what Padma used on her? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Ah, that's a tricky one. Neither is entirely true, but neither is entirely false. I won't say she's willing, because she will be grossly manipulated, but he does not use any substances. Just some very clever spell-work and careful manipulation of someone he knows to have a highly assailable mind. As Caroline said in Part 2, the trick in life to getting what one wants is to find a way to make someone else suggest what you want, as if it were their idea in the first place. That's kind of what Rabastan is going to do, but it's more complicated.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	10. Another Lonely Day

**A/N: Everybody thank** _ **AvinaNox**_ **, because her catching up earned y'all a bonus!**

 **-C**

 _Loving you isn't the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? – Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac (Lindsey Buckingham)_

Penny, the Irish Setter, woke Mistress with gentle lapping at Mistress's snout. Mistress hummed, rolling onto her side, scrunching her face and snout as she tried to wake. Penny had cared for the pups in early days, when Sophie was too weak to keep up with four rambunctious pups, and she recognized the waking was something that must be done gently – even with Mistress.

When Mistress woke, she sat up and hummed happily, kissing Penny's snout with a quick touch of her lips and wrapping her arms around Penny, cuddling her.

Penny was an old dog now, as were Pepper and Sophie, but they trudged on. When Paddy passed on, Penny knew the puppies he made with Sophie were the future of Mistress's happiness. Especially when the younger of Mistress's pups was gone, and now the other was gone as well. Mistress was distraught without pups of her own.

"Good morning, you beautiful thing," Mistress sighed, stroking Penny's fur in her gentle, rhythmic way. Penny's tail flicked about as Penny snuggled her muzzle to Mistress's neck, feeling Mistress's dark, long fur cascade over Penny's face. "I suppose I have to eat some breakfast today, don't I?"

Penny whined slightly at the mention of the word meaning food. Food had come steadily for the dogs, same as ever, but Mistress's eating was not sufficient. Mistress usually consumed a full plate before leaving the house. Lately, since the loss of her pups, Mistress had only a small portion of the food laid out for her, if any at all. And she never left the house.

"Uncle Rabastan suggested I do a swim," Mistress said, using the word that meant the water behind the house. "I suppose we could give it a try, eh? I've read it can be therapeutic, swimming."

It seemed Mistress was considering splashing in the water, perhaps with Penny and Pepper and Sophie and the puppies, and Penny gave her wholehearted approval of the plan, vocalizing this firmly.

Mistress laughed and said, "Well, that settles it. C'mon. I suppose I'll have to eat something, won't I? Swimming takes energy."

Penny agreed once again with the swimming, and she led Mistress downstairs.

/-/

Shadow was the eldest of the Irish Wolfhound pups. They weren't truly pups anymore, but all the dogs and humans still treated them in much the same way as when they were pups, so they filled the role nicely. While his sisters and brother followed Mistress out to the water, Shadow hesitated, watching the Grave One watch Mistress from the house.

Shadow did not like the Grave One. He was not cruel, but he was not kind and warm like the other humans. He did not hurt Mistress, but he stalked her steps and watched her in ways that made Shadow uncomfortable, made him fear for Mistress. But Mistress was not afraid. Mistress trusted the Grave One, greeted him with warmth when she was warm, so Shadow shook his body and followed his brother and sisters into the water with Mistress, hoping to enjoy the swim.

/-/

Catherine swam with the dogs for some time and she did have to admit, it lifted her spirits. She managed to get to lunch and feel a bit like her old self, but as soon as she ate about half her plate, her appetite vanished, her taste buds dulled, and she was reminded of the emptiness of the house around her.

"What's wrong?" Uncle Rabastan said, sitting beside her rather than across from her. She shook her head, uncertain of how to verbalize what she was feeling. "Catherine, do you feel ill?"

Did she? She didn't think so, but it was hard to be certain.

"I really want a cigarette," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I haven't thought that in years. And if _I_ want a cigarette, I can't imagine how Daddy feels."

As soon as she mentioned her father, she felt a horrible pain in her chest, a loss almost greater than the loss of her children, and her body shook with a powerful, painful sob. Uncle Rabastan moved closer, but she thrashed slightly, trying to brush him away. The only thing she really wanted was her father, and she couldn't have him for whatever reason. Perhaps because they would only feed of the depressive energy between them. Perhaps because he had work he could not avoid. She wanted her daughter, and her husband, and her father. She needed her father.

"It's going to be alright," Uncle Rabastan said, ignoring her efforts to make him go away. He pulled her to his chest and smoothed her hair like comforting a child, and she gasped as she tried to pull her body under control. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but I'm right here, and I'll keep you safe, and everything will be alright."

Catherine barely listened to his words, just the smooth, steady rhythm of them. She had a wild thought that she could take the Floo, sneak over to her father's office at Hogwarts. Perhaps even to his quarters. She would have some tea for something to do until his classes were over and he came to mark. And then they would simply hold each other and commiserate over their emptiness.

Of course, she knew he probably was going straight back to the cottage these days, after his classes and any commitments to be taken care of on sight. Perhaps she would Floo to the cottage, cry on her mother's shoulder, wait for her father.

But her mother would be babysitting for Caroline, and the cottage would be empty until…who would come home first? Her mother or her father?

"Catherine?" Uncle Rabastan said softly, and she hummed that she heard him. "You've gone…a little too quiet. If you're planning something, please don't make me tell you that you can't do…whatever it is."

Catherine said nothing. She didn't know whether he would truly disapprove of her seeing her parents, or of her getting out of the house, but she knew he had his orders – not to let her leave the house for anything, and not to allow visitors without express written notice from Severus. She had to abide by that, as painful as it was.

"I've had the Floo shut down," he said gently, perhaps lying, perhaps not. "And you know you're in no fit state to Apparate. So, if you were thinking of going out…."

"No," she lied easily. "I just…miss my father. I think I'll take a walk."

"Where?" he asked.

"Along the edges of the grounds," she said with a sigh. "It's not that big. I'll take Sadie with me."

"Catherine."

"You can watch from the house easily enough, if you're worried," she said, feeling a stab of frustration. "But as you just pointed out, I'm in no fit state to Apparate."

He said nothing, although she knew he wanted to argue with the idea, and she went to find Sadie, Cecilia's favorite of the wolfhound puppies. Sadie was lounging in Cecilia's room, which she had done frequently since Cecilia didn't come home with Cynthia for the break.

"Oh, darling," Catherine sighed, sitting on the floor with the sleek, solemn dog, who perked slightly at Catherine's presence, asking to be petted. "It still feels like she'll come home, doesn't it? Like if we sit here long enough and wait, she'll come back to us."

She closed her eyes, easily recalling the ashes of her daughter floating out over the Black Lake.

"She's not," Catherine said, keeping her eyes closed as they began to sting with unshed tears. She rested her head on Sadie's coat. "Celia's gone. She's not coming back. It's going to be a hard one for the both of is, isn't it, darling? It should hurt more, shouldn't it? Harry's devastated."

Sadie whined, mounting her front paws on Catherine's lap, trying to come closer, nuzzling her face to Catherine's face and neck. She could sense Catherine's sadness, could feel the destitution of loss permeating the room.

Catherine closed her eyes and tried to put all her emotions into comforting the dog. She stroked the slightly wiry, warm fur with her cold hands. Sadie's body was lovely warm, and she wondered whether she ought to have one of the dogs stay with her at night, just to have someone warm in the bed with her, to help her sleep. She kissed Sadie's snout.

"D'you want a walk, darling?" she asked, and Sadie licked her lips and nose in what Catherine took as a response to the positive. "A lovely walk in the cool air. Yes, darling. Yes, that's much better than sitting up here in this room. I suppose I'll have to have Uncle Rabastan pack up her things to keep you from waiting for someone who will never come, won't I?"

Catherine wiped at the wet spots on her face, from her own tears and from Sadie's kisses, and she led the dog downstairs to the mud room. She put on gloves, a scarf, and a thick coat, and she walked out with Sadie at her heels.

The air was crisp and cool, a reminder of her own youth in Scotland with her friends and Harry. Catherine tried to understand Cynthia's behavior, Cynthia who had always taken after Jason in so many ways. How could she have done something so irresponsible?

But then, Catherine found she could hardly judge her daughter. She and Harry had snuck out of school more than a few times, and occasionally with negative side results. Catherine wrapped her arms around her body for warmth as she thought of that first time she and Harry had run off somewhere, flying all the way to Brighton in the dead of night, making love for the first time in a hotel by the sea. They'd been so young, so naïve. No thought for how afraid their parents might be, should something go wrong. They only worried how they might be in trouble if they were caught, and Catherine hardly thought of that.

"I don't really understand it," she sighed to Sadie, who barked in response. "Well, you have a practical girl. Sneaking out in the middle of the night with friends, sure. With a date, even more reasonable. But running away to the continent? Cynthia's just not that kind of girl. And she must not be at the villa, or they'd have brought her home by now." She paused and frowned down at the dog. "What d'you reckon?"

Sadie sat, tilting her head and whining slightly, obviously puzzled about why they were stopping, what Catherine wanted from her. Catherine smiled sadly and kept walking, Sadie walking along with her.

They'd almost made it all the way back around to the house when her pocket began to buzz, and Catherine eagerly pulled out the mirror. She sat on the grass, Sadie curling up with her, nuzzling her neck again.

"Harry?" she said, the weight of the mirror strange and unfamiliar in her hand after so long without regular use. She could hardly fathom there'd been a time when they used these multiple times every day.

He looked up at her with dark eyes, circles around them telling her he'd not been sleeping. Cynthia couldn't be at the villa, then.

"Hello, Cat," he said, smiling at her sadly. "You look beautiful. You're outside?"

"Sadie and I have been walking the grounds," Catherine said, cuddling Sadie closer. "She's been spending an awful lot of time in Celia's room."

Harry sighed and nodded before he said, "She was here, Cat, but she's gone somewhere else. We're looking for signs and getting more CCTV, see if we can't find the trail. Moody's got some ideas, and Severus is doing several tests on the house, trying to figure out how long she was here, what she did while she was here. It's sort of scary, the things he can figure out with a wand and a basic Potions kit."

"I can do all the same things, love," she said with a forced smile. "Keep that in mind."

"Right," he sighed, brushing his finger over the mirror, as though trying to touch her face. "I miss you so much, Cat. You've no idea. And I'd settle for just about any female company right now, too. I'm used to being surrounded by women, and right now I'm surrounded by men. I'd never realized how gross we were."

"You're not, darling," she sighed, closing her eyes. "You're very well-trained. How's Jason?"

Harry hesitated and she opened her eyes again. It was very clear from the way he didn't want to answer that Jason was struggling with something, and she sat up a bit straighter, leaning toward the mirror.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she said urgently.

"Well, I'm struggling to sleep," he said slowly. "Jason's…a bit worse. Severus is keeping a close eye on him, though. Don't you worry. We'll figure out the right balance for him."

Catherine didn't like the sound of that, but she nodded.

"I miss you," she whispered, touching the mirror this time, wishing it was warm and soft like his skin, and not cold, hard glass. "Come back soon, Harry. Find her and come home."

"I'll do my best," he said earnestly. "I promise, love. I'll do whatever I can to bring her back."

Once the call was over, she slipped the mirror back into her pocket and walked Sadie to the dog garage, leaving only when she saw Sadie happily playing with her sister. Catherine closed her eyes, feeling a small urge to find her own sister, but she was in no fit state to Apparate, and the Floo was closed. She thought about writing a letter, but Caroline hardly had time for those these days.

When she went through the mud room, Uncle Rabastan was waiting for her, and he took her coat, gloves, and scarf from her promptly.

"I'll deal with these," he said earnestly. "I've drawn you a bath in the master. I'm certain you're quite cold."

He was right, of course, although she'd not have thought to take a bath. He said he'd levitate some tea in for her in a bit, when she'd had some time to relax, and Catherine thanked him. She hardly noticed she left her mirror in the coat pocket, and vaguely thought she'd get it later as she trudged upstairs to the master bath. The room was warm, and the water was perfect. She sank into it, feeling the wonderful sensation of the warm water working out knots she didn't know were there. She closed her eyes and relaxed in the soapy water. She didn't even notice when Uncle Rabastan brought the tea in personally, rather than levitating it. By the time he did, she was too drowsy to care, and thanked him with a murmur as he backed out the room.

/-/

Harry sat on the back terrace of the villa, shivering. Scorpius and Cedric were supposed to bring the last of the CCTV soon, and he was trying to calm himself as he thought of how worn Catherine looked through the mirror. He had half a mind to go home, but when he felt every time he touched a wall or rail on the villa, the way the whole house seemed to burn with pain and suffering Jason insisted was Cynthia's….

His wife had her uncle, the dogs, a whole support system in England if need be. His daughter was alone in a foreign country, somewhere she'd never been. The best case was she was using cash she'd changed or stashed and was staying somewhere safe, eating well, just grieving in her own way. The worst case, he didn't want to think about. And even if she was being responsible, money would run out eventually. Would she turn around and come home, or would she find some other way to keep going?

He swallowed back the bile that was rising in his throat, and Severus sat beside him.

"They're picking it apart now," he said softly. "How was your wife?"

"Not well," he said, frowning, "but perhaps better than Jason."

"Likely better than you," Severus said with a nod. "The one I worry about is her father. Cara sent me a message through Scorpius. He's been trying to sneak cigarettes. Don't tell Catherine. Even if we find Cynthia, the trick will be finding her soon enough so the damage done to everyone is minimal, of course."

"Did you just say if?" Harry said hoarsely, struggling with the bile, which was trying to come up again.

Severus said nothing for a long moment, and Harry thought perhaps the older man was going to suggest he hadn't said the word at all. In Harry's sleep-deprived state, he could believe imagining he heard the worst.

"I say if," Severus finally said, "because we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility she cannot be retrieved. But I promise you, because I promised your wife and her father, I will find your daughter. It might be the search is called off, the rest of you go back to England, and I go on looking alone. I might be I must retire or take a sabbatical to keep searching. It might be I find her in less than ideal condition, and perhaps even dead. But I will find her, wherever and whenever and however she must be found. But this search might not. Do you understand?"

Harry sighed and said he did, but in truth, he did not. He could not understand any words meaning he would somehow be forced to go back to England without his daughter. If it came to everyone going back except for him and Severus, no matter what anyone said, he didn't think anything could drag him away from this search.

He could not have fathomed greater dangers might be behind than lay ahead.

 **A/N: So, Catherine is struggling to find ways to occupy herself, Harry is torn between two needs, and Severus expresses his determination.**

 **Review Prompt: Do you think Rabastan was lying about the Floo?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Is [Rabastan] why Ryana is only in five chapters? (danceegirl92)**

 **A: SPOILER ALERT! Yes.**

 **Q: Will Catherine do anything with Rabastan? (Marcytherock)**

 **A: SPOILER ALERT! Yeah, but not…totally willingly? Let's just say she won't be herself at the time.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	11. Dreams

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update!**

 **-C**

 _I'm over my head, oh, but it sure feels nice. – Over My Head, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Rabastan had researched the spell thoroughly, although his hands were still shaking as he stood outside Catherine's bedroom. If it went poorly, she would know everything and she would despise him. He would forever disgust her. But if it went well….

He could always do what he'd done to Cara, all those years ago, he mused. But Catherine's mind had undergone even greater stress throughout her life, and it was possible he might do permanent, irreversible damage in trying to fix a Waking Daydream Spell gone wrong.

He took a deep breath. Nothing left but to do it or go to bed and forget the whole thing.

Very carefully, he opened the door. Catherine looked like an angel, sleeping in the large bed. She'd entertained the idea of having one of the dogs sleep on Harry's side, but Rabastan had talked her out of it, at great length. The last thing he'd needed was those mangy mutts getting in his way. They would be much more complicated to erase than other barriers.

Rabastan waited until he was right beside her, carefully sitting near her on the bed, to do the wordless spell. Mind charms were delicate things, and he wasn't sure it was working properly, but she began to wake, which was a good sign. Her mind was still in the subconscious, the dream-state, but instead of interacting with the images her mind conjured up, she would interact with the images around her in the real world. Come morning, it would all be dismissed as a dream.

His stomach churned with excitement as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her smooth, warm jaw. He held his breath, breathing her in, his whole body seeming to vibrate with excitement as he thought of the possibilities, should she relax into this dream.

Rabastan pressed his open-mouthed kisses to her neck and he began to imagine a world he could explain away in the dream. In this world, she was his wife, not his niece. Because of her frail health, they enjoyed their own patch of life in near-solitude, simply enjoying each other as often as possible. And he loved her so terribly much.

Catherine hummed slightly, shifting to give him better access to her neck as he let his teeth graze her skin.

"Harry," she sighed, her hands reaching out toward Harry's pillow as if he would be there when she opened her eyes in this dream world.

Once he got into this character, he felt bold, excited, confident. All he needed to convince her this was a coherent reality within her dream-state.

"Who's Harry, darling?" he said, amused as she opened her eyes, frowning at him in confusion.

"My…husband?" she said, looking around the room and finding it fuzzy but familiar – part of the dream. She looked at Rabastan, who was shifting to be closer to her on the bed, allowing his fingers to feel the soft, silkiness of her hair. "I'm…."

"Last time I checked, darling," he said with a small smirk, "my name wasn't Harry."

She seemed mildly puzzled as he traced his fingers up her neck, and she tilted her head back slightly as a reflex to welcome his fingers. Rabastan decided to go fully bold, pressing his lips to hers, tasting her warm breath. In her fuzzy-subconscious mind, she only hesitated for a few minutes. As he continued to kiss her, to draw her into this sensual moment, Catherine's confusion and hesitation melted, and some part of her signaled her brain that this was a dream. It could be processed and dealt with later. For the moment, it was not dangerous or overtly distressing, and thus her mind could simply experience it – even enjoy it.

Catherine accepted the kisses without struggle, and after he began to whisper endearments against her lips, she began to kiss him back. He imagined the subconscious mind – stripped of the superego – was a far more easily-aroused thing, the reason young men suffered wet dreams at the drop of a hat about things that would not even arouse in the waking world. He hoped Catherine's body was responding to his touches, his kisses, his whispered words of desire. Her subconscious mind certainly was, and as he pressed kisses to her neck once more, her fingers traced into his hair and encouraged him.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked breathlessly as his hands brushed over her clothed breasts, wondering if he should push this too far on the first night, or if he should slowly condition her subconscious for as long as he could while Cynthia was missing.

"Does it matter?" he whispered, deciding to keep his hands over the clothes for this first night. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep away tomorrow, or the night after. If he never slept again, it would be worthwhile to have this time with her. "You're so perfect."

He nipped at her neck and she moaned, her body wriggling as he pressed himself against her, the sheets between. She wasn't moving away, he thought, excited. She was almost…inviting him in. Teasing him with the pleasure she was feeling. Merlin, this was entirely too tempting.

"Do you like this?" he whispered, lightly squeezing a breast with his words, before nipping at her neck again. She gasped slightly.

"Yes," she whispered, and he let his hand trail down her body. He felt a jolt of energy through him at her admission. "Mmm, yes."

Rabastan licked his lips, breathless as he looked down at her beautiful, half-focused brown eyes. The longer he let this go on, the more he wanted to wait until her subconscious melted into her waking, conscious mind. Would she accept it? Something told him she would not.

His hand traced lightly over her thighs, and he teased her between them through her clothes. She sighed, shifting to give him more access, looking at his face but not really seeing him.

"I love you," he whispered, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he admitted the words he'd never said. Like a weight off his chest, and she did not react in horror or disgust. Yes, she wasn't fully aware of who he was or what he was truly saying, but it encouraged him to keep speaking. "Does this feel good?"

He pressed a finger lightly as he traced his hand back and forth over her panties. She moaned as she told him it did. Her voice was different, breathy as he continued to caress her through the thin fabric. He knew she was enjoying the touch by the moisture gathering and dampening the fabric.

"I love you," he sighed, leaning in to kiss her lips, excited with how readily and eagerly she kissed him back, even in her dream-state. He sighed into the kiss, wondering if he could talk her into touching him now, or if he should relieve himself later, when he'd lifted the spell and given her body full respite. But he couldn't be greedy, he reminded himself. He couldn't afford to be greedy, or he'd lose everything he'd worked so hard for.

"Tell me," he whispered.

She didn't seem to understand, but her hips were bucking up, trying to increase the pressure of his hand. She was shaking, and he used his free hand to squeeze her breasts gently, which caused her to moan.

"Please," she finally sighed, and he knew he was on the right track. If he could get her to say it tonight, it would be enough for a start. She wouldn't have to mean it. That wasn't the point, or he'd just have slipped her a love potion. He just wanted to hear the words on her lips.

"Tell me," he said sternly, "and I'll give you want you want."

He lifted some of the pressure and she whined, her eyes closing as she strained to get it back.

"You want to come?" he said softly. She quickly said she did. "You want me to make you come?" Again, no hesitation. She had fully given in to the dream, which was a good sign, moving forward. "Then tell me you love me."

No hesitation.

"I love you," she sighed, and his hand increased pressure through her panties, moving with her hips to create the friction she craved.

"Again," he said firmly.

It only took a few prompts to get her to repeat the words over and over, in a string like a chant, a mantra, a desperate plea, and when she came he kissed her, swallowing up her cries. He relished the way her body twitched and thrashed, and he did not lift the pressure of his hand as he carried her to the end of the climax. He very carefully removed the spell and slipped out of the room, creeping across to the guest room on shaky legs, fighting the urge to go right back into the bedroom and bury himself in her, no matter what state her mind was in.

Come morning, he knew she would remember nothing about the encounter except she'd had a sexual dream, possibly that he was in it. He slipped out of his clothes and hurried into the shower, letting the streams of warm water cascade over him as he recalled the taste of her lips, the feeling of her warm body beside him, the look in her eyes as she came expressing love, regardless of whether she meant it.

Rabastan moved his hand to his nose and breathed in deeply the scent of her moisture, and he sighed with regret that he hadn't had a chance to properly taste her. How delicious it would have been, even more for having her squirm with carnal delight on the end of his tongue.

The greatest positive, perhaps, was she had accepted this spell with flying colors. And from the reports they'd had from Harry, Rabastan thought finding Cynthia would not be as simple as they'd once hoped. He might be gone weeks, perhaps even months. Rabastan worked through the mechanics of relieving his erection as he thought of all the things he could do to Catherine if he had months to savor her, to work with the mental and emotional aspects of the spell to tweak her…acceptance of his affections.

Half-laid plans worked through his mind as his pleasure built. He could imagine all the ways he could work this scenario, and the longer he had, the more…long-term this could become. He saw a way he could use the dream to influence reality, a way he could coax her into an affair, willing. Perhaps even seducing him. This thought was so exciting, he could no longer hold on, and he came forcefully, biting his lip hard to hold in his cries, for fear of waking her. Too soon after the dream.

Rabastan climbed into bed, shaky and sated, and he let his exhausted eyes close, imaging all the ways he would take her, all the things he would convince her to do. He knew he could use the spell to induce the dream-state from wakefulness, as well, although it took some training within the typical dream-state to keep her mind from rejecting the dream, to keep from inducing a panic.

As usual, he was confident in his ability to manipulate the situation. He'd been doing it all his life, quietly, in the shadows. It had kept him alive, kept him happy, kept him successful, for over sixty years. Now, it would bring him the one thing he truly desired more than anything in the world. He was going to guide Catherine into falling in love with him, in the privacy of her home, with the satisfaction of knowing nothing would stand in the way of it. Not her father, not her husband, not her dogs, and most certainly not Ryana-bloody-Cotton. A smirk rested on his lips as the methods of retraining occurred to him.

/-/

Sirius rubbed his eyes, curling up beside Cara. She twitched slightly, and he felt his stomach turn as he wondered what had caused it. Severus warned him the ancient magic he'd accidentally done on his son might have extended to his wife, as well, through the prenatal bond. An enormous guilt weighed on his chest, and he wondered how he would ever make it up to his son – and perhaps his wife – for dragging them into his fears and the negative side unfolding from those fears.

"They've got some ideas," Cara said softly. "That's a positive sign. They're making inquiries."

Sirius knew there were things she wasn't telling him. There were things the search was keeping from him, and probably Catherine. He wondered how things were going with Catherine and Rabastan, but he knew what his wife and Remus would do if he mentioned his wonderings.

"I miss my children," he said, pressing his face to Cara's neck and breathing her in. "I mean, I miss them generally, but I miss when they were little. I miss how Kitty would scream if I tried to put her down, and how Jason would copy every sound as best he could. I miss when Caroline used to draw on the walls."

"That was terrible," Cara groaned.

"Lots of children draw on walls," Sirius said, shrugging. He'd thought Caroline was actually quite good at it.

"Yes, with paint and pencils and things like that. Not with blood from her brother's scrapes when she pushed him down the stairs. I was terrified she was going to turn out like your cousin."

Sirius said nothing, because he'd been afraid of much the same things. Sometimes, with Caroline, he would look at her – even as a baby – and feel fear that wasn't the fear of fatherhood and failure he had with his other children. Still, he loved her.

"You miss the dogs, be honest," she said, rolling over so she was looking up at him in the darkness, a small smile at her lips. "Perhaps we should get a puppy. Although, if I haven't managed to train you, after all these years…."

Sirius grinned as Cara traced her fingers up his neck teasingly. It felt good to smile after so much pain.

"You know, darling," he said, tracing his hands up her body, "you've got me quite well-trained. Just say the word, and I'll do anything."

"I know," she said with a sigh and a smile. She pressed her lips to his tenderly and he hummed his approval before kissing her back. He thought he should reminder her how much he loved her, but this was good enough. She would know from his actions what his words could never say. He closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars they had found each other, whatever the circumstances and no matter the reasons. Nothing in the world was more special to him than the life he'd built with her, with all the ups and downs and bumps.

/-/

Jason shivered, half-tempted to ask someone to sneak him a glass of wine. Harry must have noticed the shiver passing over him, because he sat up abruptly and asked Jason what was wrong.

"Is she hurt?" Harry asked, urgent. "Afraid?"

"No," Jason said, glancing at Severus pointedly. "Nothing like that."

He'd felt this same sensation of muddled euphoria three times now, and he went to the sitting room, ignoring his brother-in-law, letting Severus follow him.

"I'm afraid," Jason said softly. "I've felt these sensations before, years ago."

"With Catherine?"

"Yes," Jason said, narrowing his eyes. "Similar but…muted. They crept up so I hardly noticed them after a time. They weren't symptoms of distress or injury, so I ignored it. But with everything else…."

"Describe it for me."

Jason did, explaining the tangle of confused, disoriented sensations and emotions, the dulled way his other anxieties and restlessness seemed to settle around the sensations. He didn't have to say when he'd had these feelings with Catherine, because Severus's nod of understanding said quite clearly that he recognized the symptoms of intoxication – and more than that, of drug use.

"Would she be so foolish?" Jason said, pulling slightly at his hair. "Cyn was always the practical one. Is it possible she would be so…rash?"

"She's run away from home, hasn't she?" Severus said softly. "The sensations, you said they were clearer than they were with Catherine? Can you still sense your sister?"

Jason couldn't be sure. Theoretically, he should be able to separate this sensation from the distress of whatever Catherine was going through, but perhaps she was asleep and he couldn't sense her for that reason.

"I'm not sure," he said softly. "She's just sleeping, right? I mean, I wouldn't feel anything from her if she's not awake?"

Severus said nothing, but Jason had a feeling he wasn't so certain. There was a great deal about the bond they still didn't know, and the last thing Jason wanted was to learn Catherine was somehow destroying herself under Uncle Rabastan's nose.

"I'll keep an eye on it," Severus said softly.

Translation – he would have a word with Rabastan using urgent methods, make certain a close eye was being kept on everything Catherine made or consumed. She wasn't supposed to be brewing anything, and she shouldn't have had access to any drugs or intoxicants, but Jason knew as well as anyone how talented Catherine was at getting what she wanted – no matter how she had to do it. Jason knew his mother caught his father trying to sneak cigarettes, and he had nowhere near Catherine's capacity to create a drug.

"I'm afraid," Jason said again, almost a whisper. "If we can't find her…."

"We will," Severus said firmly. "And whatever you do, mention none of this conversation to Harry. The last thing he needs is to believe his daughter is in the state Catherine was once in, and there is much we do not know."

 **A/N: So, Rabastan begins his plans for Catherine, Sirius is feeling nostalgic, and Jason has his concerns.**

 **Review Prompt: What's the weirdest dream you ever had?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Is [Rabastan] going to Imperio her? (thatcrazyginger)**

 **A: Erm…. SPOILER ALERT! So…obviously not right away. Eventually, yeah, a little bit, but not "on camera" so to speak, and he's really reluctant to do so. In this chapter I tried to make it clear that his great hope is to manipulate her into falling in love with him, into coming "willingly" through that manipulation, so it's more brainwashing and mind games than magic that impresses her feelings. He only resorts to more extreme measures when he feels he's running out of time and his previous methods aren't working like he wants.**

 **Q: Is Ryana dead? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Okay, this isn't even really a spoiler. Yeah. She's dead. Ryana was nothing to Rabastan, so unimportant he didn't think about what she might mean to the people around her, just that she was nothing to him but the root of all Catherine's past troubles. But what has he done with the body?** **That's a question yet to be answered.**

 **-C**


	12. Think About Me

**A/N: So, a reader of Part 2 has earned you a bonus chapter! I would tell you to say thank you, but for that reader, Ryana becoming part of the marriage was a bridge too far, so that reader has since ceased reading… but hey, they made it through a lot of hell first!**

 **-C**

 _I knew we would be together, and I couldn't wait for more. But what can they say? It's not against the law. – Think About Me, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Caroline woke up on her day off to the sensation of kisses on her collarbone. She closed her eyes again, letting her fingers trace through her husband's silky, soft, ginger hair. She wished one of their children had looked like Damon, but her features and coloring were apparently too dominant to get a carbon copy. A nose here, a set of eyebrows there, a handful of scattered expressions, but mostly her children resembled her. Caroline sighed as he traced the kisses up her neck toward her lips.

"Good morning," he teased, kissing the corner of her mouth when she finally opened her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, touching his cheek.

"You need to take the potion."

"I don't want to," she said, wrinkling her nose, but she knew the time was close. She could feel her grip loosening, and she wondered what it would be like if she were the one with the bond, not Jason. Would there be a potion strong enough to contain her magic if she had such instability on her shoulders?

Damon didn't try to coax her. He simply poured out the measurement of the dose and handed her the glass. Caroline took it without argument, downing it in one and ignoring the vile taste.

"Your mother said she could help me babysit. Your father needs to see you, Caro. He's on edge."

"But it's Mum's day off," she said, stretching.

"It's only for a few hours, my love," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "It'll be until I have to go to work. Then Ourania's coming, anyway. Go on, shower. I'll get breakfast ready. I think Xanthia's probably put the kettle on. She's highly responsible."

"Crazy to think she came from us," Caroline teased, taking her husband's suggestion and heading for the shower.

Breakfast was ready and waiting when she came out, and she hurried to the Disapparition point, going straight to the cottage, where her parents were having their morning meal. She kissed her mother's cheek, accepted another cup of tea, and sat beside her father, letting him wrap his arms around her and not let go.

"You look lovely, Caro," he said earnestly.

"I'm just wearing the same old dress, Dad," she said with a weak smile. "And I'm barely out of the shower."

"But you're beautiful as always, my dear," he said. They said goodbye to her mother, who hurried off to help Damon corral the children, and her father whispered, "Would you tell your mother if I snuck a quick brandy?"

"Yes," Caroline said sternly. "Have they put you on a potion, too?"

"No, they're afraid to," he said, frowning. "Won't put Kitty or Harry on them, either, I imagine. I expect they'd give it to me before either of them, though. Have you heard any news?"

She knew they were searching the train stations in other countries for signs Cynthia might have gone even further abroad, but they hadn't found her as of the most recent report.

"No, Daddy," she lied easily, kissing his cheek. "Shall we play chess?"

/-/

Catherine felt very uncomfortable when she woke. She showered, and she told herself she probably just had a nightmare, almost certainly something about Cynthia, but when she went down for breakfast and saw Uncle Rabastan, a quick flash of the dream came back. She wasn't completely certain what happened in the dream, but she knew it was sexual, and it was between her and her uncle. Catherine felt her cheeks go red as he greeted her and offered her some tea.

"Are you alright?" he asked with a frown of concern. "You look unwell."

"Didn't sleep well," she said, wondering what could prompt such an explicit dream with her uncle of all people. "I doubt I will until they find her."

Did she imagine Uncle Rabastan's hand lingering on hers as he passed her the tea? What sort of trick was her subconscious mind playing on her?

She ate her breakfast without a word, and he did not try to pull her into conversation. She hurried to the library, going through the books for something to put her mind at ease. She knew there were books from her father's library, gifted to help her fill the room, as well as gifts from Severus delving into all sorts of magic and mental studies.

Catherine found a piece in the section on mental studies with a sizable section on the subconscious and unconscious mind, and she curled up by a window, reading as quickly as she could for some clarification of the bizarre feelings she was struggling with.

She learned dreams were fickle things, which she knew, and the meanings of them were neither straightforward nor uniform – as Divination would apparently have one believe. She learned unresolved or unacknowledged desires could present themselves in dreams, and fears could misrepresent themselves as desires. Proximity and familiarity could paint all manner of pictures in the mind.

Catherine told herself the dream was nothing. Her subconscious mind was aware of her distress, and was presenting her with familiar images in an unfamiliar way, perhaps mirroring her distress with images to cause her distress. It couldn't be unresolved desires. That would be bizarre, having desires for her uncle. Especially as she was more than happy with Harry and Ryana.

The warmth of the room raised, and the lack of proper sleep must have been stronger than she realized, because she felt her eyelids growing heavy, and she closed her eyes, vaguely feeling the book slide out of her hands as she gave in to the darkness of sleep.

 _The dream world came faster than she could have imagined. Catherine was in the library, responding to kisses of a man whose lap she was sitting on. Her eyes were only half-open, and she murmured Harry's name on the lips she was kissing._

 _"That's the second time you've called me that, darling," a familiar voice said, half-amused, half-irritated, and Catherine pulled away from the kiss, looking at the face of Rabastan. Was it Rabastan? She thought so, but she couldn't be kissing her uncle. Could she? "Who's Harry?"_

 _"My husband," she said, almost certain this was true._

 _"I assure you, Catherine," he said firmly, "I'm your husband. Have you been having those dreams again?"_

 _"Dreams?" she said. The word sounded strange, almost echoing around them. Rabastan was her…husband? It didn't feel quite true, but it didn't feel false. And here she was, sitting on his lap, his fingers caressing her gently through her clothes._

 _"You said you'd been having strange dreams," he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "With a different life."_

 _A different life. Was Rabastan only her uncle in the dream? Her husband here, her uncle in the dream…. It seemed so strange._

 _"This isn't a dream?"_

 _"Of course it's not," he said, his eyes burning as he caressed her jaw. "Does this feel real?"_

 _He kissed her again, with all the force and energy of a passionate lover. It did feel real, and she murmured her affirmative against his lips as he coaxed her deeper into the kiss. There was nothing wrong with it, after all. He was her husband. She shifted so she was straddling his lap for greater comfort, and he took advantage of this new position to trace his hands up her torso, caressing and then gently squeezing her breasts through her top._

 _"Tell me about the dream," he said, whispering against her jaw. "Was I in it at all?"_

 _"Yes," she said, aware she'd just had the dream. She'd been…having breakfast, reading a book. Strange to dream of such average things. "You made me breakfast."_

 _"I made you breakfast?" he said, amused. "Where was your…oh, what's his name? Harry, I think you said."_

 _"I don't know," she said, rubbing her forehead. "He's gone for some reason. Looking for something. Or…someone?"_

 _"Well, there's another reason to know this is real and that's a dream," he said, adoration clear in his eyes as he held her closer. "No one married to a woman like you would leave you for anything. I couldn't bear the thought of you lonely."_

 _Catherine hummed, but she felt there was a good reason for Harry to not be there. It wasn't trivial. But it was so hard to think of what it might be. Her mind seemed terribly fuzzy, perhaps a quality of just waking up, and waking to such a sensual scene. It was harder still to think with her husband's hands working their way up her torso, this time under her jumper. His hands were warm, real. So, so real._

 _He expertly caressed her breasts and she sighed. He was right, she thought as he worked. This had to be real. She couldn't imagine a dream feeling this good. It begged the question why she would have a dream about being married to someone else, but that was a question that could wait._

 _Catherine felt rather useless as he was giving her pleasure, and she was doing nothing for him, so she leaned down and kissed him as he worked, enjoying the eagerness with which he returned the kiss. He murmured he loved her against her lips, and she thought he wanted her to respond. One hand was about to unbutton her jeans when a strange buzzing came from his chest pocket and he swore._

 _"Be back soon, darling," he said, kissing her neck. "Business."_

 _She dutifully climbed off him, mildly annoyed she was all worked up for naught. He left the room and she settled back on the bench, closing her eyes for a brief rest, trying to calm the beating of her heart._

Catherine woke, breathless and aroused, sitting on the bench by the window. She was mildly puzzled as the dream was very close this time, as though it had just happened. But it couldn't have happened, because she was certain she was awake now.

She glanced down to the floor, where she should have dropped the book, but it wasn't there. She blinked, frowning, looking under a nearby table, but no sign of it.

She had been reading a book…hadn't she? Or was this the dream, this a sign of the dream because there was an inconsistency that wouldn't exist in reality? Catherine took a deep breath, trying to decide what this would mean.

If this was the dream, and what just happened was reality, then everything she thought was true despite what she'd just experienced was a lie. Rabastan wouldn't really be her uncle, Harry wouldn't really be her husband. What else would be false?

But if this was reality, and that was the dream, then she was having explicit and sexual dreams about her uncle. And at such a time, with Harry searching for their daughter, Ryana away seeing family, and Rabastan constantly present as her caretaker.

"Catherine?"

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, and also at the rush of arousal and adrenaline she felt when he said her name. Before now, that had never happened.

Had it?

"Yes?" she said, her voice shaking.

"Are you unwell?" he said again – she thought. "You don't seem quite yourself."

"Fine," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Just misplaced a book I was reading. Bit of a…long story."

"I didn't notice you reading yesterday," he said.

"No, this morning."

He raised his eyebrows and said, "If you say so. You've only been in here about a minute and a half. Harry's calling on your mirror."

"My mirror?" she said, reaching for her pocket. Shouldn't she have her mirror? She'd been keeping it on her person, she thought. Why would Rabastan have it?

The growing number of things not adding up was making her dizzy, and he brought it in. Seeing Harry's face in the mirror was relaxing, allowing her to set aside her existential crisis for another time.

"Rabastan said you slept poorly," Harry said, clearly not having slept well, himself.

"I'll be alright," she said firmly. "How are things?"

"Well, we've got some clues to follow up on," Harry said. "Jason wants to talk with you."

"Of course," she said, but Harry had already passed the mirror to her brother.

"Be honest with me," Jason said, and she heard a door closing on the other end of the mirror. "Have you been sneaking anything?"

"Sneaking…?" she asked, puzzled. She had a flash of memory of…dream? She thought of Rabastan caressing her breasts as her tongue plunged into his mouth, and she felt another sharp jolt of arousal and guilt.

"Potions, pills, cigarettes, alcohol. Anything."

"No," she said, astonished that Jason would ask her such a thing. This world became stranger and stranger, backing up the idea that this was the dream. She wasn't sure why she would dream this, but the guilt factor lessened the more she thought it might be, and that was a nice sensation. And if this was the dream, all the worries about her missing daughter were a fantasy, which was a mild relief as well. "Jason, is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry," he said, although she thought he might be lying. It was so hard to tell when he was medicated. "Just try to enjoy your time off, okay? Do something fun with Uncle Rabastan. I'm sure he's bored out of his mind."

Her mind flashed again to the sensation of hands on her body, the feeling of him unbuttoning her jeans, the anticipation of his fingers. Another flash, in her bed – their bed? – with Rabastan's fingers bringing her to delicious climax through her panties. Another, more powerful, jolt of arousal.

"I'll do my best," she said with a weak smile. "I'm sure we'll think of something to do."

She expected to have a chance to say goodbye to Harry, but the image was gone, and she blinked, dazed as she carried the mirror back to Rabastan without thinking. He told her he'd put it away for her, his fingers brushing hers. Again, she wondered why he was her uncle in her dream, although a moment later she wondered why she'd have erotic dreams about her uncle, and she was frustrated she couldn't tell which one was happening, much less why either would happen. She told him she was going for a swim and he said he might join her later, if she didn't mind.

She glanced at her uncle and had a sudden flash of him and her swimming in nothing, something she wasn't sure had happened in the dream (or reality, or whichever).

"I don't mind," she said, not fully sure what she was saying with those words, and whether she meant them. She went upstairs to change, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, as though someone was watching her – a sensation she thought she liked, oddly. But it enhanced her confusion, and the strange mix of arousal and guilt that seemed a permanent fixture of her day.

/-/

Columbine sat up on the foot of her bed, frowning at Cynthia's bed, trying not to cry. Sometimes, on weekends, when the other girls had gone down to breakfast or off to some activity or other, Columbine would watch her best friend sleep, thinking how she looked like an angel or a goddess when she was sleeping.

Columbine wasn't certain when she'd fallen in love with Cynthia. It had happened so slowly, she didn't realize. And she hadn't realized just how much she loved her until Cecilia died. But it hadn't seemed the right time to tell her, while she was grieving for her sister. Columbine told herself she could say something later, when Cynthia was past mourning, or when they'd graduated. Perhaps when she'd had too much to drink and had enough courage to try to steal a kiss.

Now, she was kicking herself for not saying something sooner. Even if Cynthia had laughed at her, rejected her, told her the friendship was over, it would be better than this horrible sensation she was feeling now. She would have clarity and a definitive answer – not this feeling that her best friend had run away, thinking Merlin knows what – and not knowing how much Columbine loved her. What if knowing would have made her stay?

Or maybe knowing would have meant them leaving together, which Columbine was certain she would have done. She liked the idea of running away with Cynthia, whatever the reason. And eventually, when Cynthia had done her grieving and was ready to return, they could come back together, get a place, have a life. Somehow, it wouldn't seem so dire if they were both gone.

At least, to Columbine. In this fantasy, it didn't really matter what their family and friends were thinking.

But Columbine had never said a word, and here she was staring at Cynthia's empty bed, wondering where her friend could possibly be, and why she would have done such a thing.

"Colly?"

She didn't look up. She recognized her sister's voice.

"Yeah."

"You really need to eat something today," Coreen said earnestly. "Gareth said he's worried."

Gareth. Columbine closed her eyes. If they hadn't taken Gareth to that stupid club, Cynthia might have gone somewhere different, or nowhere at all, and they might have found her by now. Or she might never have left the country. To Columbine, it was all so obvious.

"I'm not hungry," she said softly.

"Colly, it's not Gareth's fault," Coreen said, her voice hard and stern. "No more than it's your fault, for not telling them about sneaking out for drinking. Cyn's a big girl and she made her own choices. Now come have some toast, at the very least, or I'm bringing it up here and forcing it down your throat."

"I'd like to see you try," Columbine said bitterly.

She knew as soon as she said it, it was the wrong thing to say. She saw the glittering in Coreen's eyes, taking a challenge Columbine hadn't meant to offer.

 **A/N: So, Caroline struggles to be as together as her mother, Catherine is very confused, and Columbine continues to sulk.**

 **AND YOU GUYS, you've earned another update while I've been editing and having dinner and such! I'll get both up before I go to bed.**

 **Review Prompt: Which Black child do you suppose is most like their mother, now?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Delia tell someone about Rabastan before it's too late? (Michand, Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Erm…no. Delia's great fear was that he might have engineered the whole thing, making Cynthia vanish, but as she now knows that's not true, she'll keep hoping Cynthia will be home and Rabastan will control himself, so everything will go back to what it was. Think about it – she's known for about twenty years that her husband's been in love with his niece, but he hasn't laid a finger on her. It's easier to lie to herself than accept the consequences of what might happen.**

 **Q: Is [Cedric] going to give Harry a hard time? (danceegirl92)**

 **A: No, Cedric actually comes out as one of the most heroic characters in Part 3. Yeah, he was a bit of an annoyance in Part 2, but he wasn't harmful, and let's be real, he was an infatuated teenage boy. Name an infatuated teenager who didn't make a bit of an ass of themselves. We've all done it. He's grown a lot, is very professional, and very concerned about the Blacks/Potters.**

 **Q: Will we ever see Narcissa again? (Michand)**

 **A: ABSOLUTELY! Narcissa's illness becomes a side plot, and if there's interest, I've got an inkling to carry on that plot as the main feature of an actual Part 4 (as Part 0 is in progress, I might post them concurrently, but we'd have to see about timing). She's been one of my favorite things in the whole series, and I'd never just ignore her. But she's not front and center atm, no.**

 **Q: Would you recommend I read the other 2 parts before I continue on with this story? (Joe-Wizard)**

 **A: Okay, I'll be responding to this review in person, but just in case anyone's got this far and HASN'T read Parts 1 and 2, I would say that for Part 3, just for the sake of keeping everything straight, it's virtually critical. Proceed at your own peril if you haven't read the other parts. On the other hand, you could probably skip Part 1 and still be okay with Part 2, and if someone came in at Part 0, they'd have no trouble reading that before going to the others, chronologically. But if you've not read at LEAST Part 2, STOP and read, idk, at least most of it before you come back. There's so much you need to know from that story to understand Part 3 fully.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	13. Pain

**A/N: Here's your second weekly bonus chapter! I'm going to put this up and go to bed, and who knows? Maybe you'll have earned another by the time I wake!**

 **ALSO: Here's your big warning. There will be some seriously dub con (see what I did there?) and while some of the previous chapters would qualify, this is where shit starts to get serious. This may upset some people, both on the Cynthia front and the Catherine front. This is the ONLY warning I will give going forward. Be prepared. If it gets too much for anyone, I totally understand if you feel you can't read anymore, and I hope you'll pop back in for Part 0, as it will have very little in the dub-con, drug culture, sexually divergent cultural choices range (comparatively speaking, definitely closer to Part 1 than either Parts 2 or 3).**

 **-C**

 _It causes her pain; that's part of the charm. – Miranda, Fleetwood Mac (Lindsey Buckingham)_

Cynthia had agreed when Rhiannon suggested they move on again, although she couldn't remember agreeing to it. She found herself on the streets of Prague, staring at the Danube and the passersby. There was something oppressive of about the opulence of the city, something she'd never noticed in the rich homes her family owned. The manors and the villa were grand, on a different scale, and they'd only ever felt homey.

A stab of panic and pain at the thought of home, and she turned away from the river, leaning on a rail, trying to catch her breath.

A man paused, frowning at her, as though about to ask if she was alright, but perhaps he wasn't sure what language to use, or maybe he thought it was none of his business. He passed by without a word, and she tried to steady herself, looking up at the sky.

Cynthia spotted a café up the street and she thought about getting a bite, but it would be much more expensive than getting something cheap at a grocery store of some kind. She watched a man and his wife sit at one of the outside tables, one little girl in a child's chair, another sitting on her mother's lap, cooing at her cute little fruit cup.

Her parents had never taken her out to places like this when she was a child, and she wondered what it would have looked like. They were so well-known, there wasn't a chance for the Potters to have a normal day out in the Wizarding world, and her mother was a bit shy of the Muggle world for reasons never explained. Instead, they spent their weekends and holidays with family. A breakfast at one of her grandparents' cottages was a special treat when she was young, particularly with Nanna making food for them at her place, with Grandad Black challenging them to games and sometimes transforming into a dog and frolicking about the house. Especially when they were little.

"Excuse me?"

The accent was American, possibly Canadian, and Cynthia turned to look at her.

"Do you speak English?" the young woman asked, hopefully.

She was pretty, nothing like Rhiannon, but her lips were almost doll-like, and her eyes were an intriguing shade of green. Cynthia thought of her father's green eyes, and another stab of pain and loss seized her.

"Yes," Cynthia said to the young woman. The woman's eyes filled with relief.

"I wonder if you can help me," she said, pulling out a few bits of paper. "I'm trying to find this…hostel."

"Oh," Cynthia said, frowning slightly. She didn't know Prague very well. She was waiting for Rhiannon to scope out a place for them to stay, but she didn't want to disappoint this woman. "I'll see what I can do."

Cynthia pulled out a little map she had of the city, took the information for the hostel, and did a couple of discrete charms her grandfather had taught her about location and mapping. It seemed fair, because she and Cecilia had been given the Cloak, and Gareth and his brothers had specially-made three-way mirrors, so Jowan had been given the map. When he became a Prefect this year, he passed it down to Isebella, but it was likely to stay in the Prewett line. Cynthia and Cecilia and Columbine had been working on a version of their own.

She supposed it would go unfinished, now.

Where she and the woman were standing glowed red, and she made the hostel appear, with tiny writing above it so she'd be able to find it again when she made the map Muggle-friendly.

"Yes," Cynthia said, quickly wiping the glow. "See, we're here. And it looks like your hostel is up here." The woman nodded eagerly. She traced the streets with her very graceful fingers and Cynthia had a wild idea of seducing her, but she brushed it off. Rhiannon would be back soon.

"Oh, thank god," the woman sighed. "You're amazing. Are you a resident, or a visitor?"

"Passing through, I guess," Cynthia said hesitantly. "I'm…on a kind of pilgrimage. My sister just…passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said, the question in her eyes of how old Cynthia was ringing loud and clear. "How…? If you don't mind my asking."

"An accident," Cynthia said with a shrug. "At school. Just one of those things."

"Well, if you're in Prague long, you know where I'll be for the next week," the woman said brightly. "Ella."

"Cate," Cynthia lied, half-believing the moniker by now.

"A pleasure to meet you, Cate," Ella said, glancing at the map again. "Maybe I'll see you around."

Cynthia nodded and said she might, watching the woman leave toward her hostel. Her mouth watered as she thought of introducing the woman to Rhiannon, of having her try the tablets Cynthia had come to very much enjoy, of tasting Ella, of pleasuring her as she pleasured Rhiannon. Her heart was racing as she thought of the possibilities.

"There you are," Rhiannon said, following Cynthia's gaze. "She's very attractive."

"I helped her with directions," Cynthia managed to say. "Did you find us somewhere?"

"I have some options to consider," Rhiannon said, smirking. "Where's she staying?"

"Erm, there's a hostel," Cynthia said, shrugging. "That's probably cheap. Are we thinking something like that?"

"Maybe," Rhiannon said cryptically. "For now, there's this place I want to go – all day all night parties. I've got another tablet for you."

Cynthia did like the sound of that, but she thought they ought to find a place to stay first. She recognized the look Rhiannon gave her, though, and she knew Rhiannon had never steered her wrong before.

"Alright," Cynthia said, and she followed Rhiannon to the place. She showed her ID, and she went in. Rhiannon said she'd find her in a bit, that she should have a drink, and slipped a tablet into Cynthia's hand before she melted into the crowded party.

She sat at the bar and asked if the bartenders spoke English. The woman did, and she gave Cynthia an approving look before asking for her order. Cynthia slipped the tablet into her drink, something she did lately which allowed her to consume just a bit of the substance at a time. The longer she sipped, the less she noticed the men and women who tried to flirt with her. A few would feel her up, and she simply enjoyed the sensation of the hands on her legs, but she didn't bother trying to hold a conversation.

The bartender's shift ended, and she asked if Cynthia wanted to go to one of the booths, somewhere less crowded, and it sounded like a good idea to Cynthia. Rhiannon would find her, she wasn't worried.

She followed the bartender, listening to the sounds of the party. She didn't bother to ask the woman's name, and she enjoyed the sensation of the woman's hands on her body as she enjoyed the drink she brought with her. Cynthia felt a hand slide under her skirt, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the woman's hands.

Somehow, she ended up on her back, her mouth entwined in this woman's mouth. Cynthia was awash with the warmth of this woman, and she reached up to pull her closer. The woman moved Cynthia's hand to the woman's breasts, and she enjoyed the weight of them as she worked them in her hands.

She reached a climax at the woman's fingers, and she readily tasted herself on the woman's fingers. It was a strange, exciting kind of sensation, and she leaned up, trying to prolong the taste as the woman began to pull her hands away.

Somehow, Cynthia was now on her hands and knees. Someone else was in the booth with them, and as Cynthia eagerly lapped at the woman, her head buried between the thighs of the bartender, she felt another hand teasing her. Cynthia gasped at the sensation of being entered, not by a finger, and she held her breath and paused at licking as she adjusted to this shocking sensation. She thought it might have hurt, if not for the tablet. Instead, as the unknown man behind her began to move, Cynthia felt a fullness that melted into pleasure. As she grew used to this sensation, she found it was actually quite pleasant. The man's hands shifted to her hips, gripping at her as she continued her licking. She was aware of bringing the bartender to several climaxes before Cynthia was alone with the man, then with another man. She had a strange sensation of being filled by both men, but she became used to all these new sensations very easily.

The tablet was beginning to wear off, and she was on her hands and knees again, across the booth. One of the men was behind her, another in front. She had a hard, rather thick cock in her mouth, salty and strange, and the other man was thrusting in and out of her at a rapid pace. She found that not only was the sensation pleasant, but she was actually moving her hips with his pace, attempting to garner greater friction. She moaned as he stroked a particularly pleasant spot inside of her, and this seemed to encourage the man in front of her, who had his hand gripping her hair. He gripped a bit tighter, thrusting into her mouth. She was still relaxed enough to avoid gagging on him as he pushed deeper into her mouth, and she was startled when a warm fluid flowed down her throat, filling her mouth. She felt a reflex between spitting it out and not losing a drop. The second one won out, and as the cock went flaccid, she carefully caught all the fluid.

When the man in front of her pulled away, saying something in a language she didn't understand, the man behind her shifted the positions so that she was on top of him. Again, the words he was saying were not English, but she could understand the vulgarities from the tone of his voice as she bounced on top of him, feeling him thrusting up into her, hitting that spot with increasing frequency. His hands gripped at her breasts, and she vaguely wondered when her clothes ended up on the table, and she was surprised when he leaned up to kiss her. She could taste the alcohol on his breath as she kissed him back. He was warm, and bringing her an intense amount of pleasure, a welcome distraction from the thoughts and memories that plagued her when she was alone. It was better, not to be alone, and this was a pleasant thing. Much nicer than she imagined it would be.

When he left her, she did a quick contraceptive charm, wondering if she'd done one before or not, figuring it couldn't hurt to do twice. She felt empty, shaky, boneless. She was satisfied, but the tablet must have lifted her libido, because she could have done with a few more men or women, despite climaxing at least three times since coming to the booths.

"I saw those men leave," Rhiannon said in a teasing voice, and Cynthia opened her eyes. She'd begun to touch herself, and Rhiannon sat beside her. She took Cynthia's head in her laps and stroked her hair. "I suppose you've been enjoying yourself."

It wasn't a question, but Cynthia felt it necessary to answer in the affirmative. She had enjoyed herself, and half wanted to ask for another tablet and some more people. It was almost better, not knowing their names. No emotional baggage to tie to her as she moved along. No more memories to forget, just pleasure to remember and experience.

"You'd like to come here again, I think?" Rhiannon said, dipping her fingers in Cynthia's drink before placing her fingers in Cynthia's mouth. Cynthia hummed affirmative as she suckled Rhiannon's fingers deep into her mouth. "I knew you would, Little One. I've got big plans for Prague. And for you."

/-/

Lily understood her husband's concerns. He paced their front room. He'd decided to take a few hours away from the school while Sirius was with Cara, and James hadn't stopped pacing since she gave him the latest news from Harry.

"Where do they think she's gone?" James asked. "I mean, have they narrowed it down at all?"

"They think probably somewhere in The Netherlands," Lily said softly. "Possibly Belgium. I think they're a bit concerned it might be Amsterdam. "

James shivered. After everything with Catherine and Harry and detoxing off a drug when they were first married…. The last thing any of them wanted was to find Cynthia and need to detox her, as well. But from what Jason and Severus told Lily, she had a feeling it was highly likely.

"Colly's a mess," James said softly. "And I saw Gareth crying the other day. He slipped into an empty classroom and just had a cry. It's just not like Cyn to be this…thoughtless."

"She's always helping others, James," Lily said softly. "It might have been the final straw. She might have needed some time to herself. Sometimes people break."

"I know," James said bitterly. "That's how our son became a murderer."

Lily sighed, gesturing for James to sit with her. She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. She wanted to believe Cynthia was alright, that Harry would withstand the stress and find his daughter healthy and in one piece. She wanted to believe Catherine was managing the stresses, and Sirius would not relapse into bad habits. But she couldn't imagine the repercussions in the long term. They'd come through a lot, and maybe this was a bridge too far.

"Whatever happens," she said softly, "I love you, and I love Harry, and I love Sirius and Cara and Kitty and Cynthia, and nothing is going to change that. They'll find her. Severus wouldn't rest until they do. And once she's home, we can start rebuilding again."

"I'm sick of rebuilding," James said wearily. "We're in our sixties, Lily. When is life going to settle down? When are we going to be normal people who can enjoy grandchildren and great grandchildren, without the chaos of…whatever this all is? It's bad enough, burying Celia. That was just one of those things."

"Sirius blames himself," Lily whispered. "Said he's a runner, and Catherine became a runner, and they should have known Cynthia would be, too. You know what you can do to help settle things, James. Keep an eye out for your best friend."

James nodded, tugging slightly at his hair. He rested his chin against Lily's head and said, "I know, Cat told me to keep an eye on him. He's purchased about half a dozen packs of cigarettes. As far as we can tell, he hasn't smoked any."

"Yet," Lily whispered.

/-/

Jason shivered as he thought of the mess of sensations he'd been struggling with for days now. He had a horrible feeling Cynthia was getting deeper and deeper into the darkness that had tried to swallow his sister whole.

"I need to go home," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "I need to see she's okay. I need to see Kitty."

"Rabastan says she's fine, and you've seen her," Severus said firmly. "She's not on drugs again, Jason. She's being looked after. We need your help to find your niece, and that means we need you."

"I'm not a hunting dog," Jason spat. "That's not the way this works!"

"No, but you knew within moments she'd been here," Severus said. He was being inordinately patient with Jason, perhaps because he was the one of his father's children who'd never had a meltdown, never been any trouble.

"I don't want any more of the potion," Jason whimpered, rolling onto his side, gripping tightly at the sheets. "I just want this to stop. I feel like I'm losing my grip every time things go…fuzzy."

"I could simply sedate you when you need rest," Severus said, pondering.

Jason gritted his teeth and tried not to let out a frustrated growl. He felt no one was listening to him. This wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to go back to life as it was, with his wife to wake up to every morning, letters from his sons while they were at school, occasionally having dinners with his sisters and their families, sometimes treating his parents to a night in. He wanted to manage his life without potions, wanted to be able to focus on one set of emotions and consequences, not three.

"Jason, we would not ask this of you if it weren't necessary. Harry and Catherine and your father are counting on you."

"It's one thing to learn you're second place to your sister," he snarled back. "It's another bloody thing to be forced to save her all the time."

Severus said nothing. Jason didn't mean the words, but he was so frustrated, so restless, so angry and confused. He wanted to throw something, but he couldn't manage it. His muscles only did what he wanted about thirty percent of the time.

After a while, Severus stood and was about to leave when Jason said, "I just want this to be over."

Again, Severus said nothing, and he left the room, left Jason to roll over and bite down on the pillowcase, trying to decide what to do for his increasing bouts of breakdowns. It couldn't be doing any good, having him and Harry in close quarters like this. His increased agitation could only increase Harry's, and it made both worse than useless.

He felt a jolt of something, then confusion, the room melting around him. He relaxed slightly, and a small part of the back of his mind told him this was wrong, this meant something was terribly wrong, but his body relaxed, regardless.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia's off down the rabbit hole of drugs and orgies, James is tired of fighting, and Jason is struggling to hold on to his own sanity on his current dosage.**

 **Review Prompt: So…things in life often get way worse than they have to before people can see their path clearly. It's easy for the reader to see where a character strays, but easier said than done in our own lives. Ever make a choice you feel like would have been sooooo easy to avoid if you were reading the book of your life as you went along?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: If Harry had a choice, would he go back to England or keep on searching for his daughter? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: That's an interesting question. I think the key is, he doesn't have all the information, and so going after Cynthia seems the clear and obvious choice no matter how much he misses his wife. On the other hand, if he had all the information, I don't think he would be able to choose. He'd probably have Severus choose for him, which one he would deal with, while Harry dealt with the other. And it would play out in the way it does in the story.** **But I won't say how that is.**

 **Q: Does Rabastan only like Catherine, or does he like Cara and Cynthia, too? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: This question is so perfect, I literally squeal with joy every time I consider which questions I'll answer at the end of a chapter. And it's high time I answered. So, without giving toooo much away, for both Part 3 and Part 0, Rabastan liked Cara once upon a time, but when Cara grew older (think, when she started getting grays), his attentions shifted entirely onto Catherine. There's also something to be said for being waaaay less afraid of Harry than he is of Sirius, and Cara proving to be stronger than her daughter. Rabastan gets off on the helplessness factor, the frailty.**

 **He is NOT attracted to Cynthia. For one, she takes more after Sirius and Harry and James and Lily than she does either her mother or Cara, personality wise. She's completely not at all helpless, except for this small window in the story. Even then, she's more willfully searching for escapes from her grief and misplaced guilt than she is helpless or frail. Sirius is wrong – escapism is not the same thing as being a prisoner to one's own choices or the whims of others. Cynthia takes after him, where Catherine actually takes after his Uncle Alphard (nod to Part 0).**

 **Also, she physically takes more after Harry than Rabastan would like. Catherine is very much a carbon copy of her mother with very small differences, where Cynthia looks more like her father. There's a line in a television show where a man is in love with the daughter of his lover, and he says, "You look more like Audrey than she ever did," and the girl is like, that doesn't make sense. But trust me, it does. Catherine is like Cara would have looked, had she been…better cared for as a child, with better nutrition and a bit more sunlight.**

 **Q: Who's your favorite character that you enjoy writing about? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: That's a tricky question about a story like this where all the parts take such different focuses and tones. Part 1, I definitely enjoyed writing Dumbledore (the only time I'll ever say that). Part 2, I had a blast with Fabian Prewett, actually. Part 3, I would say Severus has been my favorite. Thus far in Part 0, I'm having a wonderful time with Alphard. In my inklings for Part 4, I'm torn between loving Severus or Narcissa more. But I would say, if I write the Part 4 I'm thinking of, and maybe even if I don't, the only character who stretches across all parts that I could truly say would be fabulous in all parts is Narcissa, with a small side of Sirius and Severus. Narcissa probably wins out over all. I have toyed with bringing back Dumbledore in a Part 4 – he'll be in Part 0, naturally – what do y'all think?**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	14. Wrapped Around

**A/N: You guys are so fabulous! Here's Bonus Three for the week! Strap yourselves in, and I can't wait to answer a handful of questions at the end! Y'all have been asking a lot of great ones.**

 **-C**

 _It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams. – Dreams, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Damon stepped into the office first the in the morning, pulling off his jacket and shivering slightly at the sudden cold.

 _The Hogsmeade Tribune_ was founded by Blaise Zabini in a fit of frustration not long after he came out of school, wanting to work in journalism but not satisfied with options available, and certainly not working for Barnabas Cuffe.

Damon could see Blaise having a meeting with Natalie Whitby in his office. She had a column, a high-quality one, about differences between Muggle and magical life. It was illuminating for wizards and witches to learn about the other part of the world, and it had proven helpful to many Muggle-born students trying to acclimate to their new environment.

Ginny ran the sport department, covering Quidditch and Quodpot, as necessary. Cora did the bulk of the Quidditch, and Colin covered international Dueling, as well as international politics. Dennis was the layout editor, and Damon did domestic politics and concerns.

Of course, they had young blood come through, but nobody ever stuck around long enough to making senior staff. They'd realize they wanted to do something else, or leave because they couldn't fit in a world where all the seniors staff were practically related – and many of them truly were related.

"How are things?" Colin asked delicately, glancing at a couple of interns passing.

Such an open-ended question. Colin's job lately had been combing for any sign of Cynthia Potter in the international sources, and then keeping it from print without seeming obvious – but no signs as yet. Damon had been doing the same domestically, stoppering the rumors.

"Still hard," Damon said, sitting at his desk. "Everything okay with Nat?"

"Oh, yeah," Colin said with a small smile. "He wants her to avoid society events for a while, not like she ever really needed a reason to avoid them. But the season is coming up, so they're making a long-term plan in case she…must extend her avoidance. Without making things uncomfortable."

Damon nodded. He couldn't imagine it would take long, and yet they hadn't brought her home. Damon couldn't have imagined at the start Cynthia would be anywhere by Marseille by the time they got there, and she would simply be brought home.

"How's Caro?" Colin said in a softer voice.

The real question he wanted to ask was how Kitty was, as he and Kitty had been friends in school, but Damon could not answer that question any more than one of the interns could. The only human contact she had was her uncle at the moment, and he was to keep her from going loopy while the search was on the continent.

"She's alright," Damon said carefully. "The treatment is going well. Hardly notice the symptoms."

Colin hummed, letting Damon know he understood the meaning, and Blaise's door opened. Natalie came out looking suitably weary, and Colin was called in. Natalie shot Damon a bracing smile, and he nodded, wishing he could just go home and be with his wife.

/-/

Penny watched Mistress swim, her fur billowing out from her head as she did elaborate strokes. Penny lay beside the water, her head rested on the cool stones as Mistress made her way back toward Penny through the water.

The Grave One came out the back of the house and watched her pondering something, and a horrible foreboding hit Penny. The Grave One had been acting strangely, and Mistress seemed less and less herself. She paid less attention to the dogs, and seemed to repeat routines too frequently, as though she was forgetting where she was supposed to be, what she'd already done.

"Catherine," the Grave One said, and Mistress raised her head from the pool. "It's getting quite cold out. Why don't you go inside and warm up? You'll catch ill if you stay out here too long."

Mistress hesitated, but she did leave the pool, water cascading off her body as she lifted herself out. Penny rolled over, expecting to have her tummy petted, as usual, but the Grave One took a towel and wrapped it around Mistress, ushering her back into the house.

Penny whimpered.

/-/

Catherine hesitated in the pool shower. She felt there was something she ought to be doing, but she was exhausted after her swim. She wondered whether this was reality, or a dream. Was Rabastan her uncle right now, or her husband? She still couldn't untangle the two scenarios, couldn't figure out what the facts were of the situation. She wanted to believe the dogs were where reality was, but they'd popped up in both places, and treated Rabastan the same in both places, so they gave her no information.

She shampooed her hair and closed her eyes, feeling that kind of dull confusion hit her, like the room suddenly began to spin. She reached out and tried to find the wall, but a hand grabbed hers and she opened her eyes.

 _Rabastan was standing beside her nude. She was in a bathing suit, and she felt keenly aware of just how little fabric she was wearing as his eyes scanned her body._

 _"You seemed miles away for a moment," he said, running his fingers through her sopping hair. "Don't tell me it was that dream again."_

 _Catherine hesitated. It had to have been. Rabastan in her miles-away reality hadn't kissed her all morning, so it must have been the dream. Or…was this the dream?_

 _"Why would I have a dream I'm married to someone else?" she said, afraid to mention he was her uncle in the dream, for some reason._

 _"It's called a fantasy, darling," he said with a laugh, his hands moving to her bare torso. "We all have them."_

 _"We do?" she said, puzzled as he kissed her neck. His lips were warm, but not as warm as the water cascading over them._

 _"Perfectly natural."_

 _She hummed, letting her fingers trace through his hair, feeling his scalp, encouraging the attention he was giving her neck with his mouth as his hands traced down to her bathing suit bottoms, one hand slipping under the fabric and brushing her folds confidently. Catherine moaned slightly, still feeling the ever-present sensation of arousal and guilt plaguing her through reality and dream – whichever proved to be which._

 _"Perfectly natural," he repeated as he moved his lips to her ear, and she was about to ask him another question when he nipped at her earlobe. Catherine gasped, and shifted as his finger entered her, to give him more access._

 _The room seemed to spin, but she wondered if this was because she was in a dream, or because sometimes reality seemed to shift during sexual pleasure. That was a perfectly natural thing, to lose the moment when one was experiencing euphoria. Also perfectly natural for dreams to be unstable._

 _She trembled as she felt the water go off, and she was lead back to the nearby bedroom. She had a horrible sensation this bedroom belonged to someone, but it was empty. She hesitated in the doorway and he asked her what was wrong._

 _"This is Ryana's room," she said, blinking at the empty shelves, the non-descript bedding._

 _"Darling, I have no idea who that's supposed to be," he said, frowning with mild concern. "It's just a guest room. We hardly ever use it. Is she someone from the dream?"_

 _But Catherine couldn't remember, and Rabastan was kissing up her arm, to her elbow, as he coaxed her closer to the bed. Once Catherine was on the bed, her soaked bathing suit on the floor, it didn't take long for her to lose track of what her objections were to this room. Was it because they weren't real objections, or because she was in a dream? She wasn't certain._

 _The only thing she was certain of was in this reality, however real it might be, her husband was kissing her body, caressing her in ways that made her feel adored and aroused, and entering her with reverent confidence as she felt the delicious sensation of fullness. The blend of arousal and guilt intensified, and he kissed her firmly as he made love to her._

/-/

Rabastan sat up, watching Catherine sleep. He even put a charm on her to help her sleep deeper, longer. He didn't want to risk her waking early in the wrong frame of mind while he was watching her.

He'd crossed a line now, one he couldn't turn back from, but he had been helpless to deny himself any longer. She was everything he imagined she would be, and he wished he were a young man again, able to enjoy her for longer periods of time.

She was not fully committed to the idea that the dream-state was reality, but he could see she was struggling to decide which side truly was reality. Rabastan considered this positive, that she was losing her sense of grounding so easily. He had hoped, what with her history of mental strain and drug usage, but he hadn't dreamed it would go so smoothly. The dogs were a nuisance, but she seemed to find a way to not find that troubling. If anything, it was Harry's regular mirror calls causing her the most confusion and distress, but Rabastan felt he could find a way to work this to his advantage. Perhaps, as he was holding the mirror, he could answer for her, say she was sleeping, that she had been struggling to sleep well and he didn't want to wake her.

It had…possibilities.

He traced his fingers along her jaw, wishing he could risk pressing his lips to her smooth, warm skin. There were things that had to be arranged before he could do such a thing, however, and he could not say how close they were to such things.

Rabastan had a sudden thought of how he would manage things once the search found Cynthia, as he was confident they would do. If she was found quickly, it might end things, and he might be forced to end things awkwardly, without much hope for the future. But if he had the proper time, he could foresee an opportunity to carry on an affair. He had a house in London his wife never went to, a place where he could meet Catherine without her husband's suspicion or presence. No dogs, no conflicting memories.

He could feel his cock twitch with excitement at the idea of taking her there, not of seducing her, but allowing her to seduce him as he was confident he could convince her to do.

He laid back, resting his head on the pillow, moving closer to her. Even in her deep sleep, she shifted to move closer to the warmth of another body beside her, and he wrapped his arms and legs about her naked body, savoring the sensation of her skin on his. He would allow himself a few minutes more of this, before he would leave her, clean himself off, dress, remove any signs of their coupling from the room and the showers. He wanted to make certain reality felt not quite right, like a dream, but not too wrong to cause suspicion of what was really happening. He licked his lips, and hesitantly pressed one small kiss to her lips, enjoying the small, unconscious sigh she sighed.

He slipped out of the room, reluctant to untangle himself from her, and he began his clean-up. He showered again, this time upstairs, dressed, and dried his hair carefully. He took her dressing gown and some clothes from her room and put them in the downstairs guest bedroom she was sleeping in, and then he went upstairs to make her some tea and pretend nothing had happened. He wished he could see her wake, see the confusion and help her understand it in the way he wanted her to, but he knew there was no good way to do that without arousing suspicion.

She was confused, but horribly clever. He couldn't take unnecessary risks. Not yet.

Once he'd put the kettle on, he leaned back against the kitchen counter recalling the sounds she made as he touched her, the way her skin flushed as she became aroused, the way she gripped at his back as he thrust into her, and the taste of her desperation in the kiss they shared. Everything he'd imagined.

He heard footsteps on the stairs as she poured the tea, and he felt his pulse race. He wondered how she would be, half-hoping she was confused.

"Rabastan?" she said, and he was relieved she had stopped calling him uncle. "Why was I sleeping downstairs?"

"Were you?" he asked. "You must have decided to rest after your swim. You've been very tired lately. Have a cup of tea."

She took it without question, and he was sure to brush her hand as the exchange happened. She didn't shy away as she had at first, but her face flushed slightly. He wondered if she was remembering the dream-state, or if her body had simply begun to respond to his touch reflexively. Both seemed positive to Rabastan.

"Thank you," she said, looking around the kitchen vaguely. He thought perhaps he should have changed something small, something he could move around while she was awake, but keep fixed in its proper place when she was in the dream-state. But the more elaborate he allowed himself to become, the harder it would be to keep track of everything, and the easier it would be to clue her into what was truly happening.

Simplicity had its charms, he decided.

"I must have slept a long time," she said, touching her hair. "It's nearly dry."

"Indeed," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You stopped swimming quite some time ago. I'm surprised it isn't dry yet. Are you hungry?"

She wasn't, of course, but she agreed to eat, as she knew she was supposed to do. Rabastan made her a sandwich, and watched her eat. He wanted to stay close to her, but he knew he needed to give her space, make her lonely in reality, so the dream became more attractive. He watched as she finished the sandwich and asked what her plans were for the afternoon.

Catherine rubbed the back of her neck and said, "I think…I should probably do some walking. Or…. Yes, I'll take a walk with the dogs."

Rabastan nodded. He could watch her from the windows, of course, but it was not as good as holding her. As soon as she finished and went to walk the dogs, Rabastan settled upstairs on the widow's walk, and he settled down, watching her walk, able to hear the tone of her voice, but not her words as she spoke soothingly to the dogs. He pressed his hands on the wrought iron rail, leaning to get a better look at her as she sat down with the dogs, a few of the younger Irish Wolfhounds, although from this distance they all looked the same.

She was not exactly nurturing with the dogs. In fact, in many ways, they seemed to nurture and look after her. She seemed to look to the dogs more as a child looking for comfort from an older sibling, or a parent figure – perhaps a product of her father sometimes transforming for his children when they were quite young, to be something easy to cuddle with and endlessly comforting.

Rabastan wished he'd been clever enough in his youth to learn such magic. Not for the first time in his life, he felt a stab of jealousy toward Sirius. Without evening meaning to, Sirius had blundered into Rabastan's life, been handed everything Rabastan ever wanted or valued on a silver platter, and lived the life that should have belonged to Rabastan. In another world, another life, Rabastan would have married Cara, or at least kept her as a mistress, and he would have had a little girl who looked just like her – a Catherine – who would have lived a much better life than Catherine ever had. She would have had none of the rashness that had led his niece into destruction time and time again. She would never have married a Harry Potter, but perhaps someone more like Draco, or Blaise Zabini. And her children would have had a far better, far more typical life than that of Cecilia and now Cynthia.

But as Bellatrix had ruined all that, so many years ago, he would settle for the little piece of his dream he could salvage, the one thing he thought he could have, even if it had taken so many years to have. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining the warmth of Catherine's body beneath him, feeling the softness of her skin, smelling the sweetness of her, hearing the enticing breathlessness of her arousal and desire.

There was a time in a man's life, he knew, where one outgrew the passions and recklessness of desire. A time when a man took what life had given him and made the most of it. He truly had felt he'd reached that point before his time, that when Cara was lost to him, when the Dark Lord was killed, the world he had imagined was gone forever, but standing here now, knee-deep in the careful deception and seduction he found himself in, he felt rejuvenated. Perhaps he had yet to reach that point of his life. Perhaps he still had a chance to have some small piece of what he so desperately wanted.

He looked down at the grounds again, amused to see Catherine had curled up against the dogs, with one laying over her like a blanket, and she had fallen asleep on the grass. He might have approached, except he knew his presence would disturb her. If only he could remove those dogs without spoiling everything, then he would have a truly perfect scenario on his hands.

But a wise man did not wish for tools other than what he had to work with. He simply made the most of his materials.

 **A/N: So, Blaise is helping to control the flow of information carefully, Catherine is confused but is seduced in her dream-state, and Rabastan begins to hope for a long-term arrangement if he plays his cards right.**

 **Review Prompt: If you could walk into any job in the wizarding world (without having to worry about the qualifications) what would it be? I think I'd rather like being an Unspeakable.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Did you consider putting Harry in Slytherin? (Joe-Wizard)**

 **A: This was posted on Part 2, but it was so fabulous, I had to answer. I consider it, but the reason he had the Slytherin side was the Horcrux, and in this universe he was never a Horcrux. Instead, he was raised by his very Gryffindor parents, with his very Gryffindor godfather and so on. If anything, I considered putting him in Hufflepuff, but I knew I was putting Kitty there, and I didn't want them in the same House. Plus, Neville was already Sorted into Gryffindor, and he would have wanted to be with a friend.**

 **Q: Will Snape know what Rabastan is doing to Catherine? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: At the end of this story, only two people will know what happened, and only one person will know all of what happened, and that person will indeed be Severus. I'll let y'all chew on how that works out, logically.**

 **Q: Have you had any more ideas about another Harry Potter story that doesn't include these characters? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Well, if you're talking about just stories in the HP universe, I've got heaps. As far as Harry-centric, not so much. I've got long-term plans for another multi-gen where there will be a couple generations where there's loads of Harry. But that's momentarily shelved while I organize other things. But ideas crop up all the time, so if I decide to do another Harry-centric that doesn't exist in this universe, I'll put a note on this story series so y'all know. But I find Harry less interesting, generally, because he was the focus of the primary series, and he's been done to death.**

 **Q: What inspired you to write fanfic and this story? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Ah, a lovely two-part question. Well, for fanfic in general, I think I've always written fanfic. From the very first stories, I always read with an eye to how I would have made it better. I first seriously began mentally writing fanfiction when I was morbidly obsessed with Lord of the Rings, but I never wrote it down. I someday might, but I was maybe ten, eleven, and I'd never heard of fanfiction.**

 **The aforementioned multi-gen was my next foray. I wrote it because I had to, in snippets and scenes, starting when I was twelve. It evolved and grew, and when I was toward the end of my senior year of high school, a friend told me I should share my ideas with the world. By this point, I knew what fanfiction was, but I never read it, so I wasn't so sure. Within a matter of months, though, I was posting, reading, and becoming immersed in the culture, so that by the end of my first year of college, I saw myself as a fan fiction writer. That was… oh, six years ago, now. I'd say I've written a few decent pieces since then.**

 **As for this story, like with some other stories, the idea for Part 1 came in a dream. The whole story, in one dream. I did that for a few other pieces. The whole main plot of Craving Comfort, for example, was a dream. And a major turning-point scene for another story was a dream. So, I wrote Part 1 in a frenzy, posted, and then realized I had a Part 2. And, as y'all may have noticed, my stories tend to take on a mind of their own and expand like hot air balloons and then take off to their own land, dragging me along by my fingernails. So Part 3 was suggested in that people wondered if there would be one, and by then I'd discovered Rabastan's feelings about Cara and Catherine, so I had a plot. And then while outlining Part 3, I got an inkling for Part 0, and now that I've started writing Part 0 and y'all are responding to Part 3, I have a very firm idea about Part 4 – and I'm doing employment charts. I'm restructuring the whole bloody wizarding world. *sigh***

 **But, yeah, it started out as a dream about Sirius and Cara, from his first meeting her in the safe house to the end of the Dark Lord, and I just knew I needed to write it. In the end, that it was a dream is fitting, considering this piece. Dreams are funny things, aren't they?**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	15. Silver Spoon

**A/N: Here's your fourth weekly bonus! And I've got a lovely stack of questions from y'all!**

 **-C**

 _Take your silver spoon; dig your grave. – Gold Dust Woman, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Sirius finished classes for the day and sat in his office, staring at the photographs he kept on his desk. He had a wide array of them, with children and grandchildren abounding. One of his favorites was a photograph of Cecilia's first birthday. It didn't have every grandchild, for obvious reasons, but the whole family as existed at the point was there, and Cynthia was so keen on her baby sister, sitting in her mother's lap and trying to feed Cecilia cake, even when Cecilia was clearly having none of it.

A knock at his door, and Sirius straightened, frowning.

"Come in," he said, and he relaxed slightly to see Saxon entering.

Saxon was Jason and Laura's youngest, a very young thirteen, not especially talented, and certainly not responsible. He was an astonishingly loyal friend, for a Gryffindor, though, and Sirius always had a soft spot for him.

"Grandad," Saxon said, his kind face drawn in pain, "can I…have a word, before you go back to the cottage?"

Sirius nodded, standing and coming around his desk to sit beside his grandson, rather than across a stuffy teacher's desk from him.

"Issy's not eating right," he said, about his cousin and classmate. Between the pair, Isebella was the practical one, the responsible one, but she'd been hit hard, he assumed, by the falsehood surrounding Cynthia's absence from Hogwarts. "I can't even get her to eat sweets in any measure."

"Everyone deals with pain differently," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. "Some of us don't deal with it…well. I'll keep an eye on her. What else is bugging you, Sax? This isn't about your cousin."

Saxon hesitated and rubbed his forehead. Then he said softly, "It's just, in Muggle Studies today we talked about Squibs and Muggle-borns. And Professor Burbage mentioned the war, and I guess I don't understand when she says things were different. I know we haven't got there in History yet, and Isebella didn't want to talk about it for some reason. I would have written Dad, but he's not there, and I know Mum's terribly busy."

Sirius sucked in a breath. He didn't ever enjoy this talk with a grandchild, but perhaps it was a good distraction, for both of them. He locked the door and asked if Saxon wanted some tea.

The only way was to start at the beginning. He knew this well enough by now. To explain his childhood, and how different it was from Saxon's, despite being in the same house. To explain Cara's childhood, the world the purebloods once held so dear. To explain how Hogwarts in the 1970's was a completely different world from Hogwarts in the 2020's, and to tell his grandson about the war they'd fought, some of the things they'd done, and why his parents found it necessary even decades later to have a crusade for Squib rights and research, why their progress was so terribly important.

/-/

Penny had noticed a change in Mistress, who seemed unrested much of the time. Mistress did not take the dogs to sleep with her anymore, and would sometimes sit up and talk with them in their space, instead. She was brushing Penny's fur, now, speaking to Penny with a calm voice seeming to hold stresses Penny couldn't penetrate.

"I don't know what else to think anymore," she said, rubbing her neck. "Things just aren't quite right in this reality. So…it can't be reality, can it?" She sighed, pressing her snout to Penny's snout in a kind of kissing gesture. "The other reality, it all lines up. So…this is the dream, isn't it? And that's the reality. But either way, what does it say about me that I've dreamed my husband is my uncle? Or…that my uncle is my husband? I don't know. Whichever is the dream."

Penny whimpered slightly, resting her paws on Mistress's lap, sensing her increasing distress.

"I just want to know which is which so I have someone to talk to," she sighed. "Someone to give me advice I know is real. Sometimes, I wish I could communicate with you like Daddy does, or like Caro used to." She dragged her fingers through Penny's just-brushed fur and whispered, "Either way, something's wrong, isn't it? I'm either having terribly erotic dreams about my uncle, or I'm dreaming I'm married to someone else. Truth is, I almost hope I'm dreaming I'm married to someone else. Not just because of the sex but…the dream – if it's the dream – is so terribly sad, so lonely. My daughter is missing, my husband is searching for her, and I've been left alone with my uncle.

"Not a very promising prospect, is it?" she said, kissing Penny's snout. Mistress sat up straighter and said, "Sophie! Come. Your turn."

Sophie lumbered over, giving Penny a long look saying quite plainly she understood the sort of strange mood Mistress was in. Penny lumbered off to her corner, settling on a blanket and listening to the lilt of Mistress's voice as she continued her rant to Sophie, who stood perfectly still as she was brushed, allowing her solid presence to be a steady comfort to Mistress.

Penny felt that if only Mistress would start taking them upstairs at night again, everything would be better, but it wasn't her place to press the matter. Not yet.

/-/

 _Catherine woke – or did she? – in her bedroom, and she felt a kind of emptiness to find she was alone. She stood, crossing to the door, but found no one there. When she came back to the bed, Rabastan was coming in wearing nothing but a towel, eyeing her with quizzical amusement._

 _"Enjoy your nap, my love?" he said, and she nodded numbly. She brushed the dogs in the dream, nothing strange or inexplicable about that. She was almost relieved when Rabastan crossed to her, kissing her tenderly._

 _"I didn't realize you were here," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It was a bit…unsettling, waking up alone."_

 _"I apologize, darling," he said, tracing his fingers to her legs. "Still tired?"_

 _"Erm, a little," she said, feeling a small stab of guilt. He obviously wasn't tired, and judging by the way she could feel his erection through the towel, he wanted to make love before bed. "Here, lay back."_

 _He raised his eyebrows, but he did as he was told, and she kissed down his chest, admiring how strong he was, even at his age. Catherine unwrapped the towel, letting it fall away. She didn't think she had a great amount of experience, but there was something enthralling about the stiff, visibly throbbing erection before her, knowing she was the cause of it. She took it in one hand, glancing up to see Rabastan's head thrown backward. He groaned approvingly._

 _"I love when you do this," he gasped, and she took this as encouragement._

 _Something she did for her husband, something he enjoyed. This was perfectly natural, and she leaned in to wrap her mouth around the head of his cock, not especially enjoying the salty taste of him. But it wasn't terribly unpleasant, and she could tell he was enjoying it as much as he hinted at by the sounds he made, by the way his hand trembled as he traced his fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her face._

 _The more she put her energy into it, the sooner it would be over, and the sooner she could go back to sleep, so she eagerly, desperately lapped and sucked and worked as though it were here favorite pastime. Rabastan growled a string of encouragements and swears and declarations of love as she worked, and Catherine felt a small rush of pride at how violently he came, at how deeply he kissed her when she finished._

 _"I love you so much," he murmured, and she thought she should answer, but she was already falling asleep, humming as she rested her head on his shoulder._

Catherine woke smoothly, not with a start like she should have, had the blowjob been a dream. She could still taste saltiness in her mouth, although she was looking around a bedroom where she was alone, and where she could see no signs of anyone having been with her. The pillow beside her was cool, and when she went into the bathroom, she could find no moisture to intimate someone had showered recently.

She exhaled, deciding firmly that this, what she was standing in now, was the dream. Somehow, for some reason, she was having an elaborate dream where her husband was her uncle, and she was married to someone named Harry who was conveniently absent, searching for some missing daughter.

Conveniently? She inhaled again, feeling a burst of arousal and guilt so strong, she didn't know what to make of it. She felt a bit weak as she steeled herself for breakfast in the dream world, where Rabastan, the uncle, would be waiting for her, and all the while she would be thinking of the throbbing of his cock in her mouth, and the rush of knowing she'd given him such enormous pleasure.

/-/

Rabastan enjoyed the increasing signs of disorientation he saw from Catherine in the real world, and the lack of resistance in the dream. He got off to the memory of her mouth on him twice since he left her alone in bed, and he knew he would soon be able to push things forward.

"Excuse me," he said when he gave her morning tea, and he slipped upstairs, pulling out her vibrating mirror. Harry's face answered. "She's sleeping, I'm afraid. Had a hard time getting to bed last night."

"I expect it's the same with all of us," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "Tell her I love her, will you?

"Absolutely."

Absolutely not.

"Jason's struggling, but I know he doesn't want me to see," Harry said, rubbing his eyebrows, now. "Any sign of her returning to England?"

"Not a peep," Rabastan said, settling in Harry's chair in the second story sitting room. "She's definitely left France?"

"We think she probably went to Amsterdam. Cedric's moving in to clear the way, soon. They're much more open to the idea of a smooth, unofficial search than the French. But we haven't got an obvious place to start looking. For all we know, she stayed in the city, but she's just as likely to have gone out to surrounding areas, or used it as a jumping-off point for somewhere else. He's getting video footage, as much as he can gather, and Scorpius has gone in…quietly. Between them, we're hoping to turn up something definite so we can move in."

Rabastan nodded. He wondered how much they were telling Sirius, and he almost smiled to himself at all that was being kept from his brother-in-law.

He sat back in the chair, deciding it was quite comfortable, and perhaps he should seduce Catherine on it. For the moment, though, he simply said, "I think we want to consider involving an official search at some point, Harry. I'm not saying right now, but you can't keep chasing her across Europe, especially with the head start she's got. You've been in France ages. She could be in Russia by now, and you wouldn't have a clue."

"I know," Harry said, his voice strained, near tears. "But I don't think now, and Severus and Draco agree. Draco said he might be able to carve time out for a visit, if you think it's appropriate."

Rabastan's pulse raised, and he considered carefully how he ought to respond. He had to keep Draco away, else everything could crash down around him, but he couldn't make it suspicious in any way, or Severus could become curious and send Draco in anyway.

"Not yet, I think," Rabastan said slowly. "She's…so tired. I wouldn't want to strain her. Let's see if I can get her to rest properly first. I'm concerned she'll make herself ill. It's a struggle just getting her to eat."

"Yes, I understand completely," Harry said bleakly. "Another time, I think. Listen, depending on the state we find Cyn in, we may take her back to Marseille for a while, debrief her, sort out the process of bringing her home. You may need to be a bit delicate with Cat when you break the news. I don't know it would be good for her health, having her visit the villa with Cyn…however she might be. Jason's not telling me anything, but I can't imagine it's good, whatever he's sensing."

Rabastan nodded, agreeing, knowing it hardly mattered now, as they didn't seem any closer to finding her. This was positive, meaning he had plenty of time to get things in order while the search was still abroad. When Harry was called away to look at some photographs, Rabastan slipped the mirror into his pocket again, and hurried downstairs, eager to find Catherine and see if he could coax her into making the first move, or whether he would have to induce the dream-state to have any fun with her.

She was in the game room, laying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. He hesitated, wondering what sort of mindset she was in. He tried to measure the situation, thinking if there was a direction he could approach her from sexual enough it might elicit a response she couldn't ignore. Or perhaps he could induce the dream-state and make love to her on the table in the corner. The possibilities seemed endless.

He decided not to push his body too far so soon. He wasn't a young man anymore, and he couldn't be ready at the drop of a hat, as much as he wished he had that option.

"Catherine?" he said, watching her body twitch slightly at his voice. He entered the room, moving so he was standing over her, looking down with an amused smile. "What are you doing down there?"

She sat up slowly, her head just a little too low to be level with his crotch, but close enough he could see a disoriented, distracted gaze behind her warm, brown eyes.

"I was just resting," she said, breathlessly. "I feel very tired, lately. Did you need something?"

Oh, just watching her lips move reminded him of how warm and wet and perfect her mouth had been around him the night before, and he could think of a few things he needed.

"I was just checking on you," he said, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her smooth, cool hair and coax her up and toward him, just slightly. He didn't think she was ready, not yet. "What are your plans today?"

"I don't have any," she said, frowning and looking pointedly at his knees. "Are you doing anything?"

"Not particularly," he said slowly.

"Will you…. Would you mind reading to me? I think I just need human company."

Rabastan felt his pulse raise and he said he would certainly read to her. He had a test he wanted to try.

They went to the library and he let her pick out a book from the shelf, something dull about milk from magical mammals and the use in potions. He did a quick charm as she made herself comfortable on the bench, hiding the words on the page, and he sat beside her, so the top of her head was almost resting on his lap. He licked his lips and began to make up a story about a young woman who fell in love, and discovered the man was her father. She frowned more and more as he invented the story and eventually she sat up, slightly.

"I don't think this is the book selected," she said, frowning at the cover. "Can I see the pages?"

He showed her the pages and she blinked, bewildered at the blank pages.

"Something wrong?" he asked, as though nothing unusual was happening, but she shook her head, obviously accepting this as some kind of strange dream, and when she settled again, his hand helping her head rest once more, he managed to get her to place her head on his thigh, turned inward so her eyes were level with his cock as he invented the rest of the story.

Rabastan decided to be bold, and he traced his fingers through her hair, feeling its silky smoothness, and enjoying a small sigh of contentment as she closed her eyes and rested against him. When he finished his imaginary story, which ended with a happy and discrete arrangement between the girl and her father – naturally – he set the book aside and removed his hand from her hair.

"Don't stop," she said sleepily. "Please."

He smiled, satisfied, as he traced both hands through her hair.

"Did you enjoy the story?"

She hummed mild agreement, and he resisted the urge to caress her face. He did a quick charm to put the book back to normal, then one to raise the temperature in the room by a few subtle degrees. She hummed again, shifting closer to him drowsily.

"Has Harry called?" she asked, straining slightly to move closer to his fingers as he lessened the pressure on her scalp.

"Not today," he lied easily. "Did you need to say something to him?"

"No," she sighed, frowning with mild confusion. "No, I just…miss him."

"Understandable," Rabastan said, closing his eyes and wishing they didn't have those mirrors. All the things she lost and broke over the years, and those mirrors had to be in perfect working order.

He sat, waiting for her to doze off, half-wishing to wake her, but knowing she needed sleep sometimes. There would be plenty of time, later in the day, to wake her in the dream-state and coax her into a bed. But for the moment, he was content to be near her, to caress her hair, letting his fingers occasionally brush her cheek as he watched her sleep. The longer she slept, the bolder he became, caressing her neck and thinking how perfect she looked.

They were interrupted by one of the Wolfhounds, although he didn't know which was which. The dog came in and licked at Catherine's hand and he carefully slipped out from under her, standing across the room, watching as she woke, mildly confused.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, as though he'd only just come in. "It's nearly lunchtime."

It was a bit early for lunch, and she blinked, puzzled, as she tried to work out which world she was in.

"Erm, yeah, g'on, then."

He went to the kitchen to put the kettle on and slowly go about preparing lunch. It was hard to keep himself working at the pace he knew he needed, not when she was so enticing and responding so well, but Rabastan was intent upon doing it correctly.

He hurried a bit when he heard her footsteps and the panting of the dog in the rotunda, and he was quick to make it ready for her, and when she came into the kitchen, he had a sandwich ready, and tried to be as cool as possible, as though no time had passed in making it. She settled down without comment, eating her sandwich, whether or not she was hungry, and the well-trained dog stayed just on the fringes of the kitchen as he poured her tea.

"What would you like for dinner?" he asked. He would have to put a list together, as some of their stores were getting very low.

"Oh, something," she said, rubbing her head as though trying to catch a memory. "Something…salty."

/-/

Cynthia had balked at first, taking money from the strangers she coupled with under the influence of the tablet, but as Rhiannon pointed out, they'd get further, last longer, on the generosity of these strangers. She stood in the toilet of the Prague club and pressed her head against the door as Ella, the woman she gave directions to the hostel, pressed her tongue deep into Cynthia's folds. Cynthia had invited her to the club, danced with a man who felt her up on the floor, and turned down his offer to go to the booths when she saw the hunger in her new friend's eyes.

She preferred this to the money, any day.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," the other woman moaned before occupying her mouth once more. Cynthia clutched at the hair of the other woman, biting her lip as the pleasure built up in her center.

Rhiannon was waiting at the cheap room they were renting, since they had the cash for it, and could always get more with a tablet and a bit of free time at the club. Cynthia had stopped wearing panties when she went to the club, knowing they'd only get in the way, and had grown used to the sensation of wearing next to nothing with unfamiliar eyes on her.

And everything felt divine when the world was a rush of color and sound and sensation, anyway. What did it matter, what people thought of her?

 **A/N: So, Sirius is having to speak of the uncomfortable past, Catherine is torn between the two realities, Rabastan presses his advantages, and Cynthia has begun to accept money for her…services.**

 **SO, remember how I said on the last chapter (literally yesterday) that I wouldn't likely do a Harry/OC again in the near future?**

 **Guess what I dreamed last night? Another Harry/OC. Less AU, but still a tad AU. Definitely closer to the books than this universe. So…stay tuned on that, if you're interested in more Harry/OC, more mystery, and more Sirius surviving the war.**

 **Review Prompt: Who do you think had a harder time understanding Sirius and Cara's role in the war, their children or their grandchildren?**

 **Q: Will [Rabastan's] confidence cost him? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: I think it could be argued that this confidence plays a part in what costs him. I think perhaps he pushes her too early, or perhaps it was always never going to be how he wanted and he simply underestimates her attachments to her husband, etc. One way or another, though, I think it's safe to say his confidence plays a role.**

 **Q: Will Kitty be Harry's weak spot? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Okay, this is another one posted to Part 2, but it's a good question. In many ways, we can all agree Kitty was Harry's weak spot in Part 2, and I think in other ways, Harry is Kitty's main strength in Part 3, like how Cara proved to be Sirius's weakness in Part 1, but her greatest strength in fighting her own battles was her love for Sirius.**

 **Q: Will Rabastan use his mind tricks on anybody else, or just stay with Catherine? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: He doesn't use the magic on anybody else, but I will say he's used this before on somebody different. We'll see a tad in Part 0 (when he's young), and we'll have allusion to it toward the end of Part 4. So, he's not new to this kind of manipulation.**

 **Q: Is Rhiannon a Muggle or a witch? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Neither. Yup, I said neither. Chew on that. I'd love to see y'all's faces.**

 **Q: Is Rabastan's end game to convince Catherine that he is her husband? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Great question. The dream-state ploy would not be sustainable long-term, so rather he's using the dream-state deception to manipulate her behavior where she thinks he's her uncle. That's where reality is, and if he can get her to succumb to him even with the taboo, even with her being married to Harry, then he has her completely. And more than anything else, he desperately wants her to be in love with him. That's his weakness. It's not enough to possess her.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	16. Little Lies

**A/N: Here's Bonus Five for the week! I wonder, can y'all earn another before the regular update tomorrow?**

 **-C**

 _Tell me lies. Tell me sweet little lies. – Little Lies, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie & Eddy Quintela Mendoca)_

James pressed his fingers to his temples and inhaled deeply before he went into the meeting with Remus and Sirius. Rose brought her concerns to James, and James had to agree with them. The more time he spent watching his best friend, the more concerned he became. Even if they didn't find Cynthia right away, James was about ready to insist they let him see Catherine.

"Tea?" Remus said softly.

"I don't want a bloody cup of tea," Sirius hissed. "I want a bottle of vodka."

James wrinkled his nose. So far as he knew, Sirius hadn't consumed vodka in any amount since they were sixteen. It hadn't ended well.

"Take the tea, mate," James said, and although Sirius didn't verbally capitulate, he didn't say no, either. Remus poured it, and set the cup in front of Sirius, who simply scowled at the steam.

"I heard you had a chat with your grandson," Remus said gently.

"Which one?" Sirius said defiantly, his nostrils twitching slightly.

James closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine the level of Sirius's pain, even though the loss of Cecilia and the disappearance of Cynthia were losses they'd shared. He couldn't fathom the difficulty of not only having to tell his children of the sacrifices he made in the war – including moral sacrifices – but also to turn around and tell his grandchildren.

At least they would never have to know about the extent Severus and Remus and Harry had gone to, looking out for Catherine. Some things should never make the history books.

"Sirius, I'm not judging you. Especially as the History of Magic teacher, and a relative, it makes sense you would have to tell all your grandchildren someday."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Sirius said, slamming a closed fist on the table, and startling his friends as the teacups shattered. Remus quickly cleared the mess with a flick of his wand, and both James and Remus stared at a furious Sirius with wide eyes.

"The waiting?" James asked delicately.

"Teaching," Sirius said, standing and crossing to the grounds. "Hogwarts feels more like a prison than a home. I always thought…. I thought having my grandchildren here, teaching with my friends, Severus and Remus running the school…. I thought I'd do this until I dropped. But every time I look at that lake, I don't see the place I played as a teenager, or the place my children spent their afternoons after exams. I see a place where my granddaughter's ashes are. I shouldn't be here, I should be at home, with my wife. Or babysitting Caro's children on rota. Or taking care of my daughter, who is clearly not doing well from the bits and pieces I do get. I managed to fail every one of my children, and now I'm stuck here, failing them and my grandchildren all over again."

The two men stared at each other as Sirius began to sob as they tried to decide what they could possibly say.

/-/

 _Catherine was standing at her vanity, staring at her reflection, thinking of how even in a dream where Rabastan was her uncle, she found herself in the confusing predicament between a growing sexual attraction – perhaps not strange, as he was her husband – and a deep emotional longing for Harry, the absent dream-husband. And she had a strong sensation something was missing from the dream._

 _"Catherine?"_

 _She felt a shiver down her spine, associating Rabastan's voice with sexuality. She closed her eyes and could almost feel his lips on her neck._

 _"Yes?" she said, feeling her mouth gone dry. She seemed to feel that blend of guilt and arousal build quickly from the moment of first hearing her name on his lips._

 _"I'm cold, darling. Are you almost done in there?"_

 _Catherine tried to conjure the face of Harry, but it had been several nights of dreams since she'd seen it in the tiny mirror, and she couldn't seem to find a picture in the house when she walked through it, which struck her as odd, like the dream was trying to say something about her marriage that didn't feel…true._

 _But then, it was difficult to find truth in the dream._

 _She put her hair up in a quick ponytail and walked out to the bedroom proper, where Rabastan was already undressed, peeling back the sheets for them to crawl under. She stared at him, feeling bemused as she thought of how well her imagination had painted him in her dreams. So accurate – but then, her unconscious mind would know him well. Catherine wondered whether he would be this fit in her dream, if she saw him unclothed._

 _"Enjoying the view?" he teased, beckoning her forward. She smiled weakly, leaning down to kiss him, bracing herself on his chest as he playfully pulled her onto the bed and rolled her over and pressed kisses down her neck. "You're so beautiful, Catherine."_

 _Catherine felt she ought to say something, but couldn't think of the words. Instead, she gasped as he pressed a finger inside her. How had she not noticed she wasn't wearing panties?_

 _She vaguely recalled a conversation, a few days ago? He'd said he vastly preferred when she didn't wear them, that they only ever seemed to be in the way. He groaned and said, "I'm so glad you took my advice, darling. No point adding a step when what we both really want is for me to be buried inside of you."_

 _He wasn't wrong. The deeper his finger went, the harder it was to think of anything but how much she wanted to feel him in her. To feel filled, to feel closeness, to hear him mutter a string of swearing and words of intense devotion. He added another finger, and she closed her eyes and let the begging slip off her tongue without a thought._

/-/

Columbine stared at the bottle of rum under the moonlight. She took a long swig of the vile fluid before passing it to Gareth, who took a prompt drink. She laid down with her head on his stomach, feeling each breath as they stared up at the stars, only sitting up enough to drink their alcohol.

"Why would she leave me?" Columbine said softly. "I could see getting away to the villa for a night or two, maybe as long as a week, just for some space. But why wouldn't she tell me? And why wouldn't she come home?"

"I ask myself the same question every day," Gareth said in his gentle, cool voice. "I can't imagine what sort of state Aunt Kitty's in. Coreen tells me you've not been eating right."

"I'm trying," she lied.

Gareth said nothing, taking another drink of the rum and passing her the bottle. The truth was, neither of them were doing the best job taking care of themselves. Columbine cried when she was in the shower, so the others in her dormitory wouldn't hear. And she figured Gareth had his own version of a meltdown, when he had the privacy to allow for one.

She traced the constellations and finally said, "Do you think she's gone far?"

"I hope not," he said, patting Columbine's hair. "I just hope wherever she's gone, she's not in any trouble. I don't think she's ever been in trouble, not really. Nothing she couldn't slip out of simply enough."

Columbine hummed agreement. There were a handful of detentions in seven years of schooling, but half what she earned was thrown away because she knew exactly how to present herself not only to her grandfathers, but also to Professor Lupin. Even Professor Snape seemed to have a soft spot for her. Most of her woes, she could talk herself out of.

Columbine imagined it had been much the same when Cynthia's mother had been in school. She rolled onto her side and felt the warmth of Gareth's body radiating onto her cheek.

"What am I going to do if they don't find her?" she sighed.

"They will, Colly," he said firmly, but she didn't believe the words. If they were going to find her, she'd be home by now. For all they knew, Cynthia Potter was never coming home. "We should go inside before we get in trouble."

"Does it matter anymore?" she groaned. "We've not finished the rum."

He sighed, and he took a long pull from the bottle before passing it back to her. No one could argue with the logic of finishing off the bottle.

"Colly, it does matter. C'mon, hurry up and finish it so we can go inside. The last thing any of the adults need is to have more discipline problems on their hands. And you don't want to deal with detention."

No, she supposed she didn't. The less disposable time she had, the less she could sneak a shower for crying.

/-/

Rabastan kissed her deeply, desperate to hear her say she loved him. He knew it was a carefully constructed fantasy, but he had such strong hopes it would be real one day. If he could only convince her to cross the line in both realities, if he could make her a fully willing and semi-instigative participant in the affair, if he could coax those words from her lips with full awareness and acceptance of them….

Then it would be real. Then he would have what he wanted.

He brushed his fingers through her hair and let his teeth beg her lips for more kisses, which she hungrily obliged.

The less contact she had with Harry, he had realized, the more eager a participant she became in her dream-state. The loneliness was deep in both places, and he knew their coupling could sate the loneliness, at least in part.

He was helping her, he told himself. He was filling a void. Yes, he was helping to expand the void, but he hadn't created it. He was simply…making the most of his opportunities.

He swallowed her gasp of pleasure as he thrust deeper inside of her, and he imagined all the different ways he could take her in the coming week, provided Cynthia remained elusive during that week. So many things he wanted to try, so many suggestions he wanted to make.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and he pressed kisses down her jaw, down to her neck.

"Roll over," he said firmly, but not harshly. She was mildly dazed, but she did as asked with as much dexterity as she could muster, and he carefully pulled her onto her hands and knees. She rested on her elbows as he adjusted his rhythm, trying to build back up the friction lost in the adjustment. But he could get deeper this way, and her moans and encouragements were more uninhibited as he moved a hand around to massage her clit as he moved. Rabastan muttered encouragements, enjoying the feeling of her rocking her hips, pressing back into him, desperate for more as he gripped at her hips.

"More," she moaned, and he picked up the pace, desperate to meet her every need and wish. The more she was pleased, the more she would want to please him in return. The sounds of her satisfaction were enticing, and he kissed her shoulder as he buried himself deeper, gripping her tighter, relishing the animalistic position of their bodies.

When he felt her walls spasm around him he felt a warmth and relief through his body. He was building up his ability to last – or she was having a harder time holding on, or was relaxed enough not to resist her pleasure. Whatever the reason, this meant good things for their coupling. It a few quick movements, he had repositioned them so that she was on his lap, still impaled on him, and he was sitting up, kissing her, letting his hands massage her breasts.

It took no coaxing for her to take the movement into her hands, riding him vigorously, tossing her head back as he began to kiss down her neck toward her breasts, tracing one hand down to her clit.

Soon, he mused as he climaxed inside her. Soon, he would get her to say she loved him.

/-/

Sirius penned a letter he knew everyone would be outraged at him for writing, but he had to test the waters. If this was not an option, he would buck himself up, at least for the next couple of years, and start considering his choices again when Cynthia was home and all had returned to something resembling normal. But if it was, he would have something in his hands, something to count on for when the levy finally broke and he really couldn't handle anymore.

Barker would understand. More than almost anyone, he would understand Sirius's fragility, the pain existing in standing within the stone walls of Hogwarts castle, binding him to the past, barring him from the future.

As soon as the letter was off, he checked in with James – knowing James was reporting back to Cara as a precaution for him buying more cigarettes – and then he Flooed home directly to the cottage, finding his wife in the sitting room, sipping from a glass of water and reading a book he didn't recognize.

"Sirius?" she said, not bothering to look up.

He sat at her feet, kissing her knee and resting his head on her lap.

"I heard you had a rough day," she said, setting down her book and tracing her fingers gently through his hair.

Again, Sirius said nothing, kissing her leg. He wanted to tell her everything, but he worried she wouldn't understand. He needed to feel she was supporting him before he tried to explain his thinking. After all their years together, he couldn't stand the thought of upsetting her, and he was clearly not well on his way to pleasing her.

"Laura wrote me today," she said softly. "She said you had a talk with Saxon."

"I'm sorry, love," he said, feeling his eyes sting with tears as he pressed his cheek to the fabric of her skirt. "I didn't mention your secrets, I promise. Just…just the basics."

"It's alright, Sirius," she said, her voice gentle and warm, full of wisdom and forgiveness he didn't deserve. "I've already had a chat with Issy and Jowan. It's about time a few of them start to learn. I only wish I'd spoken to Celia. She would have been so understanding. I don't know where she got it from, honestly. If she'd been Jason's, I would have said him."

"Kitty's always been understanding," Sirius said softly, closing his eyes. "She knew far more than she said. I never told you, but she remembered everything Igor did to her, and she knew it would devastate me, so she lied for years."

"Oh, love."

Cara sighed and kissed his hand, holding it between her hands gently.

He closed his eyes. Catherine had known what they'd done to Karkaroff, or at least who'd done it. She knew what he was, what he'd done, what he was willing to do for her protection. And she'd forgiven him. It took time, but she forgave what Harry had done on her behalf. She was, perhaps, too forgiving, but he loved her for it. Sirius wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd ever refused to forgive him.

"Can we have an early night?" he said, closing his eyes and wincing. "I just want to be close to you."

"Anything you want, Sirius," she said softly. "Shall we go up now?"

He nodded, and he followed her to the bedroom, peeling of his robes and curling up in the bed and enjoying the feeling of her slipping into his arms on the bed.

"You know the best choice I ever made?" he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers as she adjusted the blankets over them. Her stockinged feet touched his leg as she tried to be closer. She asked what the choice was with a whisper barely louder than a breath. "Joining you on the sofa in my flat, all those years ago."

"You were reluctant," she teased, letting her fingers brush his cheeks.

"Ah, but I desperately wanted you," he sighed against her lips. "And one can't fight fate. Nothing in my life has ever led to more happiness than that first night, falling in love on a sofa."

"You just enjoyed the sex," she teased, kissing him gently.

"Nothing 'just' about it," he murmured, kissing her back, praying he never, ever lost her.

/-/

Jason felt a heavy disorientation, sensations of fear, sensations of restlessness, and he abruptly stood, leaving the meeting in the dining room and going upstairs. His feet carried him easily to the bedroom Catherine had always used, as a child and likely when she was convalescing with Harry. He breathed heavily, trying to find his bearings as the room seemed to swim and twist around him.

"Jason?"

The urgent voice calling his name sounded wrong, like it was supposed to be one person but sounded like someone else. He thought it might be Brontes for some odd reason, but when he looked up at saw Cedric Diggory's face, full of concern, he almost laughed.

"What's wrong?" Cedric said, helping Jason to sit on a bench at the foot of the bed. The room was crisp and white, the sort of place a person might convalesce. "Is it your niece?"

"I don't know," Jason said, closing his eyes tightly and balling his hands into fists. "If I could point you lot to her I'd do it, but I just don't have a bloody guidebook for this bond!"

"I know," Diggory said softly, calmly. He conjured Jason a glass of water, which Jason took gratefully. "But the things you do know are always helpful. Catherine?"

Jason shrugged. He wondered why he'd thought Cedric was Brontes. Their voices sounded almost nothing alike, and Brontes was back in England. Perhaps he simply missed home more than he realized.

"Looks like this is Harry's room," Cedric said with a frown, glancing at the bedside table. "Did you miss your door or something?"

"No," Jason said softly. "No, I think it had to do with the bond. Catherine has always used this room, whenever she's been here. And judging by the emotional residue when we arrived I think…I think Cyn used it, at least some of the time, while she was still in France."

Jason didn't care that it sounded mad or strange or impossible, which was probably what Cedric was thinking, from the look on his face. To Jason, it was all so simple, all so clear. Of the things he couldn't parse out, he knew Cynthia had suffered in this room, just as he thought Catherine's suffering still lingered in the room, even after all these years.

He closed his eyes again, struggling to hold in a sob as he thought of all the suffering going on back home, suffering he couldn't feel. As much as he wanted and even needed to find his niece, he wanted to go home. He wanted to hold his wife, to be present for his sons, to support Caroline and Catherine and his parents. He wanted to stay at Potter Manor, perhaps move in with Laura while the search was on, give Catherine something of normalcy while their lives were upturned.

But wanting didn't change the fact it was impossible. And he couldn't stop the room from spinning. When the water was gone, he said he'd be down in a minute. He waited until he could no longer hear Cedric's footfalls on the staircase before he curled up against a pillow smelling of his sister's perfume, and he allowed the sobs to come forward.

 **A/N: So, Catherine is succumbing to the manipulation but still feeling a strong pull to Harry, Rabastan is desperate for her to love him, Sirius is finding Hogwarts more of a burden than a blessing, and Jason's thinking his bond is also more burden than blessing.**

 **Review Prompt: Alphard Black died relatively young, in his fifties. What do you suppose he died of? (yup, totally went in a different direction than y'all expected!)**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Did you think about doing the troll incident to bring Harry, Ron, and Neville closer to Hermione? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Okay, this is obviously another Part 2 question, but it's a great question. I really picked apart all the major book scenes and turned over all of them to see if I'd keep them or chuck them, and if I kept them, would I change things? I did think about the Troll long and hard, but in the end I decided it didn't suit my purposes. Quirrell wasn't at the school so nobody was around to let a troll in. And there was no Fluffy guarding a stone, so there was no reason to let one in. Instead, I decided to have Hermione be a bit more of a distant friend, someone drawn in because of Neville's admiration for her. None of those three boys is exactly the same to the books, so I didn't need a troll to build the dynamic. I got to make it more organic, which I liked. Also, I used her mild aggravation with Catherine in yr two to bring her even closer to the boys, during the Great Prank War – pity, really, saving their arses so Kitty didn't totally destroy them.**

 **Q: Will we ever get any flashback scenes with Cecilia in them? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Well, I don't really do flashback scenes per se. I don't think they're very practical, just sticking a bit of the past in the middle of a story, and memory really doesn't work that way. Memory is more a step clearer than dreams. You get it in flashes, never full scenes replaying in the mind. So, I prefer to use short flashes, like Cynthia thinking of things while she's out and about in Amsterdam, or dreams. We'll get a few dream/memory shots of a very young Cecilia, but not much. I toyed with having more of her at the beginning, but the story isn't really about her, it's about the aftermath of loss and how major life events can trigger all manner of things.**

 **I will remind, though, that I'm happy to do oneshots in this universe, at request.**

 **Q: Is Rhiannon using [Cynthia] like Parvati used Catherine? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: That's a very interesting question. I would say there are some definite similarities, but it would be simplistic to draw a one-to-one comparison. The motivation is very different. Parvati used Catherine out of lust and greed, but Rhiannon issuing Cynthia for things much more basic and, dare I say, forgivable? She's not what you'd call malicious, not like Parvati. It's okay if you don't like her right now, but I hope you'll all understand the profound differences toward the end.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia eventually want to head home, or will the pill keep her loyal to Rhiannon? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: The pill doesn't keep her loyal, just pliable to new ideas. Cynthia really believes she's in love with Rhiannon, and that's what's keeping her loyal. Remember, she's still a teenager, and she's infatuated in her first real physical relationship. And at the moment, she's too ashamed to head home. That doesn't mean she doesn't want to go, but right now the idea is too painful. Eventually, she'll want to go home, but something different will hold her back.**

 **Q: Can the dogs please just attack Rabastan? (AvinaNox)**

 **A: Hahaha, I really did think about doing that, but it was too easy. The dogs know something is wrong, but not what. They don't like Rabastan, but they're very faithful to their mistress, and remember that they've known him for years and years, basically all their lives. They don't like him, but he's not doing anything sinister in front of them, and their mistress trusts him, so they're simply wary. As lovely as it would be for them to bite certain parts off him, there just wouldn't be a justification for it.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	17. Innocent Things

**A/N: Y'all are amazing. Here's your sixth bonus!**

 **-C**

 _Sometimes the most beautiful things, the most innocent things, and many of the dreams pass us by. – Angel, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Harry stepped around the corner from their Portkey point, frowning at the city of Amsterdam and wondering where his little girl would have gone. She had certainly come here, and the trail had to be picked up on site.

Cedric sighed and said, "We've traced her this far. I've got a few leads to follow up on, and I have a feeling there will be traces, like in the last two places we knew she was at. If you spread out and search for signs of similar magic while I'm out, I'll return to the café by the water when I've done all I can do at the local Ministry."

The others agreed, and Severus suggested Jason go with Harry, and he and Scorpius and Mad-Eye would go the other way. They divided up the map of the main portion of the city, and set off on separate paths.

"I just don't understand what she's doing here," Harry said, frowning as they walked up a side street, Jason shuddering as they went. "She never expressed any interest in Amsterdam. And her French and German are excellent, but she doesn't speak any Dutch."

"It's a city. Everyone speaks English," Jason said darkly. "And anyway, that's not the thing that worries me. Why she would come here is immaterial. The real question is, is she still here?"

Harry shivered as well. And then Jason pointed out it was a port city, and Harry felt a sob rush through his body, but he held it in. While he was prepared to follow his daughter across the globe if he had to, he hated being away from Catherine at a time like this, and she seemed to answer the mirror less and less, which clued him Rabastan's insistence she was merely tired was a kindness to keep Harry from worrying about his wife. She might even be ill.

As if he ever stopped worrying about her.

"Is it like…those Muggle things?" Harry said. "The, erm, metal detecting thingies?"

"Is what?" Jason asked, frowning up the fifth alleyway they passed on their path.

"Your…bond. Can you tell if she's getting closer?"

"No, but…."

"But?"

"Well, I thought I just felt something…unusual from this neighborhood. Did you?"

Harry shrugged. His senses for tracing magic were not nearly as honed as his brother-in-law's, but he followed, up the alleyway.

"Like a repulsion," Jason said. "I glanced up the alley and immediately thought there couldn't be anything interesting up it, the way Muggles see a condemned building when they come too near Hogwarts. But subtle, which means very powerful magic."

"Really?" Harry said, frowning. As they went further up the alley, he did feel a curious, itching sensation, like he needed to be somewhere else. "Why is subtle more powerful?"

Jason snorted and said, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, Harry. Ask Caro. She can lecture you on that. It's amazing, how subtle she's becoming in her old age."

Harry's turn to snort. His sister-in-law was everything but subtle. He supposed she'd mellowed a bit after the eighth child or so, but…

"Here," Jason said, frowning at what certainly looked like a condemned building to Harry. Boarded up windows, even the Muggle drunks and druggies passing it by without a second glance. In fact, Harry noticed their eyes seemed to glide over it, from the building on the left to the building on the right, as though it weren't there.

The way Muggles looked at the Leaky Cauldron, or St. Mungo's. Harry's heart sank to his stomach as Jason slipped his hand in his coat pocket for his wand. Harry turned to be certain no one was watching as Jason did a few quick spells.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Is it really derelict?"

"Yes," Jason said, frowning. "And definite signs of an advanced magical signature. A signature I…think I've come across before, but I still don't know what it is or how it's possible."

Harry did a quick Confundus on the nearby Muggles, emptying out the alleyway so Jason could approach the building without arousing suspicion. Jason had barely put his hand on the outside before he gasped in agony. Harry turned, concerned, and he saw tears on Jason's cheeks.

"So much pain," Jason said, trembling again as Harry rushed over to him. "Harry, it's hers. She was here. Cyn was here, in this building, I'm certain of it."

"Can she do this kind of magic?" Harry asked, anxious as he tore through the boards so they could get inside and send a Patronus.

"In theory, yes," Jason said, pushing through the flimsy door with ease and leading the way. Harry lit his wand and looked around the room, seeing a few empty alcohol bottles, a blanket on a sofa, and some empty crisp packets. "Caro and Kitty could have done it, had they needed to, by Cyn's age. But Cynthia never had that kind of…precociousness, so I don't know where she would have learned it, and the signature is…."

"Wrong," Harry said with a nod, summoning a memory of his first night with Catherine at the hotel in Brighton, still the most sacred memory after all these years. Happiness before it was all tainted by their choices. He conjured a Patronus to send to Severus, who would bring Scorpius and Cedric, and Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to breathe as he tried to imagine his little girl in this hell-hole.

/-/

Cynthia shivered as she sat on the stone bench, waiting for Rhiannon to return. She'd lost her jacket at some point, and she couldn't remember now if she'd left it in Amsterdam or Prague. She knew she'd left her dignity in Prague, but she hardly minded. She'd made so much money off sexual partners in that club, she could keep going halfway across Asia without having to worry about having enough to eat.

And it was so hard to worry when she had the tablet on her tongue.

It would be nice to have the tablet now, but Rhiannon had them all. Cynthia had a cardboard cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar, and she stared at the Berlin Muggle Parliament building. Made of glass, and she thought it was beautiful and strong, rising into the sky. It made her think of some of the buildings she'd seen in London.

Sharp pain and regret washed through her, and she felt tears in her eyes as she began to think, unbidden, of Cecilia. Their parents took them to London for three days, just to explore the city, when Cynthia received her Hogwarts letter. One day for school shopping, one day for spending with Uncle Jason and Aunt Laura and their cousins, and the final day was for seeing the city. At eleven, she'd thought London was the most beautiful place in the world.

"Hello, beautiful," a man said in German, and Cynthia looked at him out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to look away from the building across the way. He sat beside her, with a thick brown beard and a stocking cap over his hair. His eyes were marble green, and very kind.

"Do you speak German?" he asked, this time in English, and Cynthia said yes, in German.

He asked her what she was doing all alone, and she said she was waiting for a friend. She would guess he was somewhere in his late thirties, and he didn't seem interested in her sexually. If he had been, she might have flirted a bit, just to see if he knew of a place she could stay with Rhiannon, but instead he just seemed like a kind person with time to spare.

"You're not from here," he said, not a question.

"England," she answered, this time in English, and at this he dropped the German, perhaps to make her more comfortable.

"What brings you to Germany?"

"Pilgrimage," she said, thinking of Ella. "I…lost my little sister."

"I'm very sorry," he said, frowning. "How young?"

"Would have been fifteen when we buried her," Cynthia said, feeling her throat choking on the words. Anxiety was rising in her again. She needed Rhiannon.

"My little girl is fifteen," he said, frowning. "They always get…what is the word? Annoyed. They get annoyed when you worry. May I ask…?"

"It was just an accident," Cynthia said, frowning. "At school. Nobody's fault. Just…an accident."

The man hummed. He asked if she knew where she was staying in Berlin and she said, no, but her friend she was waiting for was working on it, and he checked his watch before he wished her a good pilgrimage.

"I'll pray for your sister," he said, and Cynthia blinked, wondering what he meant. "What is her name?"

"Celia," Cynthia said, feeling a few tears collecting in her eyelashes. "Her name is Cecilia."

When the man left, she wiped her eyes quickly, and waited for Rhiannon.

/-/

After everyone had arrived and they were able to establish how long his niece had been gone, Jason spent several minutes sicking up. Severus sat with him in the second story of the building, which showed no signs of having been used.

"Scorpius is researching the magical signature," Severus said softly when Jason stopped retching. "If we can get some answers, we might have a better idea of how to track her. Cedric is already pulling outgoing information, train stations and airports and boats and the like. I doubt she'd leave the continent. As her father pointed out, she only speaks three languages."

"She could have gone to America," Jason said wearily.

"Too difficult," Severus said, frowning. "She's doing this without any planning or time to work it out. The level of magic she'd need to pass customs would draw attention. I believe she took another train."

Jason nodded, avoiding the walls, although the floor was causing him enough pain – her pain.

"Be honest," Jason said softly. "The kind of magic involved in leaving emotional signature in a location…. She wouldn't learn it at school. I'm not even sure it's possible for her to have learned it in England. Which means she's either travelling not alone, or she's picked up that knowledge from I don't want to know where. And she would have had to have got it in France, wouldn't she? But she didn't go anywhere but the villa."

Severus said nothing, but they knew without speaking whatever she was dabbling in, it had to be at least mildly dangerous.

"Harry's pacing downstairs," Severus said softly. "Alastor Moody has arrived, and is checking the house for anything his magical eye can see and our eyes cannot. If there is a clue to where she has gone, we will find it."

"She's not been here in days," Jason said, rubbing his eyes. "She could be clear across the continent by now. She could have changed her name, changed her face. Could have been sold into prostitution and slavery. Could have joined a cult. Could have overdosed on some drug."

"She's still alive," Severus said softly, "or you would have felt it. Everything else can be managed, or even reversed. Long as she's alive, we can do something. We will find her."

Jason shivered and rested his head against the wall without thinking, feeling the horrible jolt of agony and depression, a deep sensation of loss. He turned and retched again, and Severus stood abruptly.

"You need another dose," Severus said firmly, and Jason did not argue. He was weak as a kitten, and he just wanted this to be over, wanted to find his niece and bring her home and start to heal again. Because if this continued forever, or even for a year, he couldn't imagine trying to return to normal life. Whatever normal was supposed to be.

Perhaps this was normal for his family.

/-/

Damon watched his wife take another potion and he fought the urge to tell her he wanted this to be the last. He knew she needed it, that before doses she would come dangerously close to losing control over her magical core. He wished she could see her sister, could spend more time with her father, but he didn't know if it would do any good or make them all worse.

What she needed, Damon knew, was her brother, but Cynthia needed him more, wherever she was. The search had moved to Amsterdam, but he didn't know whether they'd found anything yet, or whether there was further to go before his niece was found.

"I got a letter from Issy today," Caroline said, wrapping her arms around Damon's neck and resting her face against his cheek. Damon smoothed his fingers through her hair. "She's very…. She's not handling it as well as Jowan."

"She's young."

"They're all young. That's hardly the problem."

Damon hummed, pressing his nose into her hair, feeling the silky strands tickle his skin. He half wanted to ask her for another child, but he'd given up when Tresha was born, and he knew Caroline was exhausted from all the pregnancies in quick succession. He loved the look of her pregnant, but he didn't like the post-pregnancy mood-swings.

"I love you," he sighed, tracing his fingers through her hair and feeling the strands, cool and soft between his fingers. "I've always loved you."

She smiled against his neck and murmured that she loved him, too.

"From our very first train ride," he said, closing his eyes and remembering his wife as a bossy, confident, brilliant eleven-year-old. "I adored you. I still adore you, Caro. You are the strongest person I have ever known."

"No," she said moving back to look him in the eye with a sad smile. "My mother is the strongest person in the whole world. I'm just a brat."

Damon laughed, but he wouldn't argue. Cara Black, he had learned over the years, was the epitome of strength and grace. The older Caroline became, the more she tried to emulate her mother, and while she would always have her father's arrogance and temperament, she'd learned many lessons about strength and motherhood from her mother. He very much doubted they'd have managed so many children if she hadn't learned a thing or two.

"We'll send Issy a parcel," Damon said, taking Caroline's hands from his neck and kissing them tenderly. "Maybe have her siblings make some things for it. She can get all the sweets she wants in the village. Drawings, maybe? That book she was ogling during our last trip to Brum. Can you think of anything else?"

Caroline shrugged and said, "Kitty was always happy with a new dress. Wouldn't hurt to get her a jumper, at the very least."

Damon hummed, kissing his wife's hair again. He'd buy his daughter a whole shop's full of dresses if it made her feel better. Like his father-in-law and Harry, Damon learned very quickly he was completely beholden to the wishes of his children, particularly his daughters, and Isebella most of all. He couldn't fathom the agony Harry was going through, but he knew if anything ever happened to any one of his little girls, he would be incapable of functioning.

Like his father with Rhea, or his uncle with Cora. But Damon, and his side of the family, had been lucky. Somehow, it was Catherine's branch of the family, the Black side of the family, that suffered. Jason seemed to be suffering as well, although Damon didn't know the details, and Caroline's difficulties – while great in Damon's eyes – were completely insignificant in the scale of things in the rest of her family.

Perhaps, he mused as he kissed Caroline and coaxed her blouse off her torso, perhaps he would continue to fight the odds and have a relatively peaceful life within his family.

/-/

Harry closed his eyes and sat on the sofa, ignoring Severus as he discussed where they would stay while they conducted their investigation. Cedric had a friend who worked in the local government, and he had a very large and luxurious home in town where they would be housed quietly and comfortably, close enough to the building she'd stayed at where they could return if needed, but discrete and hospitable.

She wasn't in Amsterdam anymore. Harry just wanted to know where she could possibly be. They'd already narrowed down she hadn't taken a boat, which was a comfort, and they were fairly certain she'd not taken a plane, but a train or a coach could take her any number of places, and who knew if she was still wherever she'd gone from here?

It seemed with every step they went, his little girl felt further away, not closer, and Jason's state of mind grew worse and worse. What would they find when they did come across her, eventually? Would she be alive? Would she be his Cynthia? Would she even remember their faces?

She wasn't travelling under her own name, that was certain. They couldn't determine what the name was on her false papers yet, or whether she'd changed them from place to place, which seemed possible. But the magical signature they still couldn't determine was problematic. No one would tell Harry what it might mean, but it didn't sound like something boding well for his daughter.

And that no one knew what caused it, it made him feel nauseous to wonder what was wrong. Did she think of him at all? Did she know how much he missed her? Did Cynthia lay awake at night and wonder whether her parents were looking for her, remembering all their family vacations and the way she'd demanded a party when the puppies were born? Did she recalling making a half-edible breakfast-in-bed for her parents with Cecilia as a child, and swimming in their pool on snowy days?

Did she want to come home?

 **A/N: So, the search finds more questions than answers in Amsterdam, Caro and Jason suffer in their separate ways, and Cynthia has a puzzling experience in Berlin.**

 **Review Prompt: Pick three characters. What do you suppose their favorite sandwiches are?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Did Catherine ask Harry [to the Yule Ball] out of pity, or because she liked him at this time? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Another Part 2 question! So, there was definitely a measure of pity involved, and more guilt than pity. When she talks about being responsible for Cho not being available when he asks, she isn't being specious. She does feel responsible. And while she thinks she'd have way more fun with him than anyone else (and knows he won't have absurd expectations, like he wouldn't expect to have her attention all night), she doesn't really have a crush on him or anything. Not at that point.**

 **Q: Who will be the most affected by Cecilia's death? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Well, interesting question. Directly, I would say Harry and Cynthia. But indirectly, in the long-term, I would say Delia and Sirius, and eventually Catherine. The structure of Delia and Sirius's lives changes the most because of the aftermath of Cecilia's death, but the immediate suffering is hardest for Cynthia and Harry.**

 **Q: Is Rhiannon the daughter of the guy Sirius and Co. sent to prison for the murder of Padma? (Emmy)**

 **A: OMG, this was a fabulous question. I died of joy that you have come to understand me so well as readers. But, no. It's a beautiful idea, but no, she's not.**

 **Q: What does the pill Rhiannon gives Cynthia actually do? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: It's a psychedelic drug, sort of like dropping acid. It makes her more pleasant and pliable, enhances the experiences she has, increases her libido slightly, and literally makes her feel the world around her is melting, so that sights and sounds and shapes and colors are blending together into one experience. Her memory of the events will be unclear at best, but not in a negative way. It's not the same as Bliss where everything is sharp and clear and enhanced in that way, where memory is exact and suggestions are almost like binding post-hypnotic suggestions. It only works in the moment.**

 **Q: If you had to pick Animagus forms for the main characters, what would they be? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Yikes. Well, I'm not totally sure who qualifies as a main character, but I'll just go with the primary characters in Part 3, and if I miss anybody you were particularly interested in, let me know! Catherine would probably be something in the canine family, but I'm leaning more toward wolf than dog. Harry would be a dog (I lean toward the Irish wolfhound, actually). I would say Columbine is a very fluffy white rabbit. And this might sound strange, but I think Cynthia is a vixen like her aunt. Severus would be a large cat of some kind, like a panther or a jaguar, maybe a tiger (but a Siberian if a tiger). Rabastan is a python. Lemme know if I missed someone you think is critical!**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	18. Crystal Visions

**A/N: You guys are fabulous! There's seven bonuses this week! Madness!**

 **-C**

 _Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions. I keep my visions to myself. – Dreams, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

When the kettle began to whistle, Rabastan quickly pulled it off heat and poured the tea. He was growing used to the Muggle appliances in his niece's home, learning when to use magic and when not, so that making breakfast was a matter of habit rather than a mysterious adventure. She would come downstairs in about ten minutes, and he would have to pretend he knew nothing of the passionate embrace they'd shared the night before in what he hoped she now accepted as the real world, where this breakfast would be consumed in what she saw as a dream.

His cock twitched at the memory of her gasping, incoherent, completely lost in carnal pleasure without any guilt or hesitation as she came undone. He had done that to her, and she looked gorgeous in that state.

With the search going deeper and deeper into the continent, and still no sign of them being in the same city as Cynthia, Rabastan felt increasingly bold. He believed he would manage to accomplish something long-term and sustainable by the time they wrapped up the search, and he would not have to give up on holding Catherine.

Just as he took a deep breath and focused on flipping her eggs, he heard her footsteps on the staircase, and he steadied his hands before slipping the eggs onto the buttered toast on her plate, and tossed bacon down where he'd just finished cooking the eggs.

"Good morning, Catherine," he said, glancing at her as she entered the kitchen with shuffling steps. "Did you sleep well?"

He glanced up as he passed her tea, and this time her hand lingered on his, not the other way around. She seemed puzzled for a moment, perhaps trying to decide which reality she was in.

"Y-yes, I think so," she said, forcing a smiling. "Did you?"

"Well enough," he said, appreciating the very thin fabric of her nightgown before turning his attention back to the bacon. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Erm, I don't know," she said, and when he looked up she was chewing on her lip. "What are you going to do?"

He almost laughed. It was the first time his spoiled, self-centered niece had asked what he planned to do all day, as if remembering he was a person as well. In actuality, she only asked because she was trying to figure out whether she was dreaming or awake.

"I haven't decided yet," he said. "Perhaps write to Aeson."

He wouldn't, of course, but the name would clue her to which reality she was in, and her body relaxed slightly. She knew where she was, or where she thought she was.

"Will you, perhaps, walk the dogs?" he said, prompting her.

"Oh, yes, at some point," she said, blinking and frowning slightly. "Where…where is the search now? Didn't they leave France?"

"Yes, they're in Amsterdam, but Cynthia isn't there anymore. Harry may be gone for some time, yet."

She hummed, deflating slightly, which he didn't like. He didn't want her to have room to miss Harry.

"I'm stir-crazy here," she said, picking up her fork and frowning at her plate as he tipped bacon onto it. "Is there nothing I can do to go…somewhere else?"

"Catherine, you need to be kept out of the public eye," he reminded her gently. "And the state you're in, it wouldn't be prudent for you to visit your family. Perhaps I could have your nieces and nephews write you letters, if it would help?"

Catherine did agree, although she was frowning as though trying to figure something out. She asked if he would join her on the walk, and he turned away to make some more toast for himself as he hid his smile.

"Sure," he said, hopefully not too slyly. "When are you planning?"

"Oh, whenever you'd like," she said, her voice tight. She was eating her eggs when he turned around again, and he tried not to seem too triumphant, not looking at her more than necessary as they shared their morning meal. He would try staying in reality for a while, see what she did, see if he could trigger changes in the dynamic through subtle changes in behavior. She was already showing uncertainty and closeness she hadn't before he'd begun this…challenge.

Progress, he told himself.

When she'd finished her breakfast, he said he would wash up the dishes, and that perhaps she should have a shower. She agreed, hesitating before going upstairs, leaving him alone in the kitchen, with the burning temptation to go upstairs and join her in the shower, in either reality. He at least wanted to go upstairs and listen, wondering if she was imagining him there with her, if she was perhaps talking to herself or desperately getting off to the memory of him inside her the night before.

He hoped, but he managed to avoid the temptation, simply washing the dishes with a few waves of his wand, and trying to decide how to appease the dogs so he could go on the walk with her without any hitches.

/-/

Penny nuzzled against Mistress's leg, irritated at the presence of the Grave One, who was trying to walk closer to Mistress than usual. Mistress did not seem to mind or notice, but the dogs walked close to her, shielding her from the Grave One, expressing their affection and adoration for Mistress with their bodies. She would pause occasionally, as she always did, and nuzzle the dogs, kneeling beside them and kissing their snouts. Each dog kissed returned the kiss, lapping happily at her cheek. Shadow, the largest of Sophie's pups, walked closest to the Grave One, growling in his throat and expressing his warning that Mistress not be approached.

The message, Penny thought, was perfectly clear, but the Grave One seemed either too simple to understand, or too stubborn to care.

/-/

Catherine apologized for the behavior of the dogs, but Rabastan – Uncle Rabastan – seemed used to it, and he shrugged as he led her back to the house from the garage. She was offered a cup of tea and took it, marveling at how long the dream seemed to be lasting. Dreams were variable things, however, and she supposed it was a matter of perspective within the dream.

They took tea in the library, and Catherine curled up on the window bench, watching Rabastan casually take a book from the shelf.

Even in this dream, he was attractive. Seeing the well-maintained lines of his body as he strained for a book on a higher shelf, Catherine's breath caught, thinking of how that body felt – or, the other version of that body – against hers. A horrible sensation of shame and excitement rushed through her, and she focused her attention on her tea, fighting with the nausea accompanying the blended sensation.

"Something wrong with the tea?" he asked softly, sitting in a nearby chair, moving it a little too close to her.

"No, just a little warm still," she said, too quickly, but he didn't notice. Or he didn't say if he did. Of course, in her dream, she had to have some measure of control with her awareness.

How far would that control go? She wished she understood dreams better. How much was under control of her subconscious, and how much could she control with the measure of lucidity she had?

"I wish Harry would call," she said, half-hoping one of those mysterious mirror calls from her dream-husband would happen at these words, but it did not.

"I expect they're very busy today."

Catherine hummed, wondering what was going on in this search. Obviously, they'd yet to find the daughter. She didn't seem to have control over that part of the dream yet, but perhaps she had control over these surroundings, over Rabastan and the dogs.

"Perhaps you would like a nap," he said, checking his watch. "Before lunch. Or…after lunch? Entirely up to you."

She was tired. Even within the dream, she felt exhaustion. She never felt tiredness in reality the way she did within the dream.

"Alright," she said. She took a few sips of tea. "I'll finish my tea and we'll see what time it is."

She was curious to know how time worked within the dream, and he told her it was half past ten in the morning now. Catherine casually sipped her tea, wholly expecting what felt like half an hour later, he would tell her it was, mysteriously, still half past ten in the morning. Everything else felt so puzzling here. Why should the clock feel any different?

As soon as she asked, and he did – in fact – say half past ten, she asked to see his watch, which he showed her, leaning over her as he held his pocket watch before her face. It did say that as the time, and she could smell his aftershave, feel warmth causing her body to jolt with arousal and need.

She shivered.

/-/

Pepper the Irish Terrier stuck her nose in the partly-open door to Mistress's room late in the afternoon. She was curious about where Mistress had gone, and where the Grave One was, and why no one had come to play with the young pups. She smelled a strong, pleasant aroma through the crack in the door, and she sniffed the air, curious. There were sounds of moaning, but not distressed or pained moans and whimpers. Satisfied moans, like the kind of sound Penny made when Mistress rubbed her belly.

The door creaked open slightly, and she saw the Grave One and Mistress playing on the bed, Mistress gasping for air and the Grave One muttering things Pepper could not hear.

Pepper would not have known why, but she knew she ought to leave them to play alone, and she wiggled out of the doorway, bounding down the stairs to the basement level, where the other dogs were lounging. She curled up against Sophie, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the mess of instinctive reactions in her gut.

/-/

Catherine woke – or, fell asleep – and found herself alone in the master bedroom. It didn't seem to smell of anything but her lotion, and the sheets were tucked over her naked body neatly.

The dream, she supposed, rubbing her arms and sitting up slowly. What had happened while she was awake? She couldn't remember all of it, but she thought just before she'd fallen asleep, she had made love to Rabastan. She remembered the sensation of him moving in her, of his lips on her neck as she climaxed.

She shivered.

An urge to speak to Harry overcame her, and she rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out where she'd last seen the mirror he called her on. But then, in the dream world, there didn't seem to be any guarantee things would be where she last saw them, even a few minutes later, so she raked her teeth on her lip.

Would a spell work in a dream? She didn't see any reason not to try it, so she grabbed her wand from the nightstand and focused her thoughts on the mirror.

" _Accio Mirror_ ," she said firmly and she waited for a moment. It zipped into the room a few minutes later and she hummed, smiling slightly to herself as it landed on her lap. She traced her thumb over the pattern before opening it, saying Harry's name, hoping he answered.

It didn't take a moment before his face was in the mirror, his eyes dark and exhausted, but his expression soft and loving.

"Cat," he said earnestly, the way a husband was supposed to sound when he said his wife's pet name. "How are you? Is everything alright?"

"I think so, yes," she said, resting her head back on her pillows. "Sorry, am I bothering you?"

"No, I was just taking a tea break. How d'you mean, you think so?" His face had grown slightly anxious. "Is something wrong?"

She laughed nervously. She couldn't even begin to explain, and as it was a dream, it likely wouldn't seem odd to him, at all. She decided just to give in to the plot of her dream.

/-/

Rabastan set down the tray on the hall table, about to open the door to the master bedroom. The idea was to surprise Catherine, bring her tea in bed, completely ignoring her nakedness and seeing how she responded. When he heard her speaking, however, he hesitated, pressing his ear to the door.

"I sleep a lot, I think, but I seem to be tired quite a bit, as well. You look tired."

"It's probably the stress," Harry's voice answered, and Rabastan bit down hard on his lip. How had she got the mirror? He hadn't heard her leave the room, but as he glanced at the door, he saw it was slightly open. Perhaps she'd gotten up without him noticing, or perhaps she'd Summoned it.

"You're under quite a lot of stress, then?" she asked, her voice gentle and sweet, and Rabastan was suddenly reminded of her as a little girl, sitting on her father's knee and asking for a sweet.

"Oh, probably as much as you and everyone else, I imagine," Harry said bitterly. "We've got a trail, but we still haven't found her. Don't worry, though, we will. I'll bring her home and I'll put everything back to normal." Rabastan could hear a smile in Harry's voice as he said, "Is it my imagination, or are you wearing a sheet and naught else?"

"You're not imagining," she said with a chuckle. "A nap, you know."

"Not for my benefit, then?"

Catherine just laughed, and Rabastan curled his hands into fists, wondering how to stop this conversation before Catherine grew too confused, before all his hard work was undone.

"I love you," Harry said, a little melancholy. "I hope we'll be home soon. I miss you so, so much."

"I love you, too," Catherine said, no hesitation, no confusion, no lack of earnestness in her voice.

Rabastan took a deep breath and paced across to his guest bedroom, picking up a vase and slamming it against the wall, ignoring how it fell where he shattered it. He paced the side of the room clear of glass shards and swallowed his anger and frustration.

Did she still truly love Harry? Even when she didn't know if he was real, even when she thought he was the figment of a dream, she went out of her way to call him, she told him she loved him with so little prompting. And she said it with such honesty, with such meaning.

Rabastan felt she was barely in his hands, and here she was, already slipping through his fingers again. He didn't wish ill on Cynthia, didn't want the girl to have found trouble they couldn't undo, but he needed her to be missing longer. Long as possible, really, to give him a chance to sort out the mess he'd ensnared himself and Catherine in. Now he'd tasted her, held her, he couldn't possibly go back to life where she was simply his niece, where he was simply her uncle. But she was clearly not yet ready to succumb to the plans he had for her, for them. But how hard could he push her? He wouldn't have forever.

And what if Harry came home and he thought everything was set and ready, and she decided she loved her husband too much, that she didn't want to continue with Rabastan?

A shiver went down his spine as a small voice in the back of his mind told him there were many, many ways. Spells, potions – although she would notice a potion – old-fashioned coercion and blackmail…. Possibilities were endless. He preferred if she chose him, if she fell in love with him and desired him as much as he desired her. But if he could not have that….

He could still have her. Whatever the cost, whatever must be done, just as he told himself as he decided the fate of his elder brother all those years ago, over the corpse of the Dark Lord. Just as he reminded himself as he organized the disappearance of all Catherine's problems while she was still a very young woman, naïve and in well over her head.

Rabastan composed himself quickly, mended the vase with a flick of his wand, and strolled across to the master bedroom again resolved to continue his plan as he'd plotted it, provided she was no longer speaking with Harry.

When he heard nothing, he did not bother knocking, but instead carried the tray in smoothly, setting it carefully across her lap, over the sheet, and pretending not to notice at all as she hastily pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, as well as could be done. He wished she wouldn't, but one step at a time.

The mirror was on the bedside table, and as he prepared her tea, he slipped it up his free sleeve. Her attention was on the other hand, and Rabastan pressed himself against her shoulder slightly as she thanked him nervously.

"Is there anything else you'll need, Catherine?" he asked.

"N-no," she said, blinking, puzzled as she glanced at the nightstand and saw the mirror was gone. "Where did it go?"

"Where did what go?" he asked, bending his arm to keep the mirror up his sleeve.

"The…oh, never mind. I'm alright, Rabastan. You can go."

He might have been discouraged she shooed him out, especially after hearing her say those words to Harry, but Rabastan saw cause for celebration, however small: Catherine had said his name without adding a reminder to herself or to him that he was her uncle. A small victory, but one to give him hope.

 **A/N: So, Catherine moves one step up and two steps back in Rabastan's plan, but even as she tries to find her footing, she still loves Harry, and Rabastan tries to find a way around this reality.**

 **Review Prompt: Do you believe there will ever be a point where Catherine would snap without further…tinkering? Or is Rabastan going to have to take heavier measures for the results he wants?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: How did the children react to the Ryana and Catherine relationship? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Children don't think anything's wrong if they aren't told it's a secret or treated like something's to be kept quiet. Ryana was a staple in their lives, their father accepted her, and the whole extended family was understanding and open about it. There was no reason for them to be concerned, and she treated them well. They were totally fine with it.**

 **Q: Will Jason be able to tell the difference between Catherine and Cynthia when he feels it? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Nope! That's why he's so concerned. He half wants to believe the drug sensations are from Catherine, because it's a bit easier to believe she's been sneaking substances than that Cynthia has started down that road. But the sensations he's getting from the two sides are similar enough, nothing's going to be causing him too much difference so that he'd know one way or another. Which is definitely to Rabastan's advantage.**

 **Q: How long is it until people start to notice Cynthia has disappeared from Hogwarts, and what chaos will it cause? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Oh, everybody knows she's not there. It's kind of hard to hide the Head Girl, especially when she's the granddaughter of everybody's favorite History and Transfiguration professors. The story is that she's ill and grieving, and is at home until she is well enough to return to school. But you know the Hogwarts rumor mill. That's why it's so hard on the children, having to hear rumors, and hold the party line, all while not knowing where their cousin is or if she's okay.**

 **Q: Did you ever think of putting Draco in Gryffindor? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Another Part 2 question! No, I really never did think about putting Draco in Gryffindor. Especially with his father's issues, Draco still strode two worlds in this story, but in a different way from how he did it in the books. And his ambition and temperament are unchanged. He's very much the Severus of his generation.**

 **Q: Will Sirius quit Hogwarts? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: SPOILER ALERT! Yes. But it won't be an emotional decision or spur-of-the-moment. It'll be well-reasoned, and well-thought-out.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	19. Possibilities

**A/N: Welcome to your regular weekly update! This may sound strange, but we're halfway done with this installment!**

 **-C**

 _Why not think about times to come and not about the things that you've done? If your life was bad to you, just think what tomorrow will do. – Don't Stop, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Cara pressed her face into her husband's shoulder and sighed. She loved Sundays, because she had a claim to Sirius's time all day long. He'd become thinner, and said less and less the longer Cynthia was missing, but Cara found comfort in his presence. Even his diminished presence.

When he moaned his semi-consciousness, Cara whispered a morning greeting and lifted herself up to look down at his thin, care-worn face.

Sirius was still the handsome, classic-faced man she'd fallen in love with so many years ago, but his skin didn't quite fit from all the weight he'd just lost and the deep laughter lines around his mouth. His eyes were usually mischievous and merry, but lately they'd been dull and melancholy at best. When they blinked open, they were momentarily bright, but dulled almost as soon as he remembered all his cares and concerns.

"No Prewetts to corral today, darling?" he sighed, reaching up and tracing his fingers through her hair with a trembling hand.

"Caro and Damon both have a day off. They're taking them to the zoo, apparently."

She could see a million thoughts behind his eyes, but she couldn't determine what was troubling him most. So many possibilities, so many cares. Before she could ask what he was thinking, Sirius leaned up and kissed her, the firmness and tenderness in the act stating with perfect clarity that he didn't want to discuss the things he was pondering.

On a Sunday, she would indulge him. With a whole day of his time and attention, Cara could pretend their troubles were a lifetime away, could pretend they were simply young lovers again as he rolled them over and pressed a string of kisses down her soft, slightly swollen neck. She could wrap her arms and legs around him and save her questions and concerns and requests for Monday morning, or Monday evening.

Sirius traced his hands up her legs and whispered words of love and devotion against her skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and familiar urgency of her husband's desire. It was the easiest thing in the world to hold him as he pressed a finger inside her, then two, stroking gently in ways he'd done a thousand times.

In the image in her mind, they were teenagers again, curled up on a sofa in his London flat, hungry and desperate and afraid. So much had come and passed, she mused as he entered her, burying himself to the hilt with a moan of satisfaction. So much had happened in their life together, but nothing had really changed. She still felt hungry, desperate, afraid. She still loved and adored and needed him with every fiber of her being, and she wouldn't trade one moment of their life for anything imaginable. Even to take away the pain, she wouldn't let go of him, any part of him.

/-/

Jason had been hopeful when they arrived in Prague. Cynthia couldn't have left Amsterdam so very long ago, he told himself. Surely, she was still in Prague.

Her picture was shown at hostels and hotels, and one hostel recognized her.

"She came asking after a guest," the manager said to Jason and Severus. "Ella Grace. North American. I got the impression they met out and about. The guest ranted and raved about what a wild time they'd had at some club."

"Do you recall the name of the establishment?" Severus pressed smoothly.

The man did try to recall, but he couldn't be certain. He could remember a few things about it, which narrowed it down to about half a dozen different places, and Jason hoped this would give them a better lead than the hostel.

"Perhaps Harry and Alastor had better luck determining where she stayed," Severus said.

It bothered Jason, the way Severus always assumed she'd already left where they'd come to, instead of hoping she was still there. But then, Severus didn't feel the horrible wave of disappointment when they discovered she'd moved on. Perhaps it was a wisdom thing, from age and experience.

Three clubs in, a bartender – a young and attractive woman – recognized the photograph.

"She was fucking wild," the bartender said with a grin. "A regular, for a while. Had a string of people clambering for a chance to touch her."

"For a time?" Severus asked as Jason glanced around at the club, which was a 24-hour establishment, with no downtime for him to do a proper search of the premises. He walked back toward some booths to see what he could sense.

The bartender explained to Severus for how long she'd seen Cynthia, and how long it had been since she last saw her. The woman was giving Severus more sordid details, whatever she knew, and Jason didn't want to hear, didn't want to know. He touched his hand to one of the booths and almost keeled over to vomit. The strongest wave yet of Cynthia's emotions hit him, and he knew it was hers.

Severus must have seen Jason's body jerk at the contact, because he took his leave from the bartender and led Jason out of the establishment, into the open air.

"Emotions?"

"Very strong," Jason said, rubbing his eyes, trying to calm himself. "Very negative."

"It's worse," Severus said softly. "She's very likely moved on again, from what I can tell from the timeline, and it seems she's begun to prostitute herself for income. Don't tell her father."

Jason sank to the ground and hugged his knees, trembling as his vision blurred. Between the aftermath of her lingering emotions and the news he hadn't wanted to learn, Jason didn't have the strength to stand.

"I want to go home," he muttered, pulling at his hair and wishing he could rest his head in Laura's lap and have her lie, have her tell him everything was fine.

"As do I," Severus said with surprising gentleness. "But for the moment, we cannot."

/-/

Damon kissed the last child goodnight – Xanthia, who was allowed a later bedtime now she'd hit double digits in age – and returned to the master bedroom, where Caroline was swallowing her dosage of Calming Draught. He watched her set down the vial and reach for the clasp on her dress.

He hurried to get it for her, carefully unclasping and unzipping the back, which traced all the way down to just above her perfect bottom. She'd lost a bit of weight while their niece was missing, but nothing on how thin her father was looking. Damon kissed her ear as she leaned back against him.

"Xanthia's worried about you," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, keeping her from shrugging off the dress.

"They all are," Caroline sighed, reaching up to trace her hands through his hair as he kissed her neck. "I'm more worried about everybody else in the family. Take me to bed, darling."

"You sure?" he murmured against her skin.

He knew the potion made her sleepy, almost like a sedative, at this time of night, and he didn't want to mess with her sleep cycles. She struggled to sleep the whole night through, as it was.

"Damon, I want you inside me. Don't question my judgment."

He chuckled, nipping at her neck before he pulled away. He watched her shrug off her dress as he rapidly undid the buttons of his shirt. He licked his lips watching her shimmy out of her knickers, holding his breath as she crawled to the center of the bed and looked up at him expectantly. Damon licked his lips and undressed as quickly as he could manage.

"So beautiful," he sighed, pressing his lips to hers. "I don't suppose I could ask for more children?"

"Not if you want to keep your parts intact," she teased, laughing with him at their favorite joke. Of course, he was only half joking, but he knew she was well done with having children, and what happened to Catherine's children was a startling wake-up about the dangers of the world for children.

He kissed his wife deeply, feeling her arms wrap around his neck, enjoying the coolness of the room on his back, and the heat that radiated between their bodies on his front. The juxtaposition would only last long as it took to be covered in a sheen of sweat, which was never very long.

Damon kissed his wife's face, closing his eyes and wishing this strangeness, this torture, did not continue too long. He wanted her back to how she usually was, full of fire and passion as opposed to subdued. The tenderness was a nice change of pace, but he missed his wife's nails digging into his skin and reminding him of the power structure of their relationship.

"God, I love you," he gasped against her lips as she nipped at his lips, and he just felt her smile.

/-/

Penny rested her head in Mistress's lap in the library, and perked up, frowning, at the approach of another human. It was the Grave One, as it always seemed to be lately.

"Would you like some tea, Catherine?"

"No, thank you," Mistress said, frowning as she looked out the window. "Has Harry called today?"

"Not yet. They're in Prague, just arrived yesterday, so we should be hearing today or tomorrow, just to know where things are headed. Cynthia never expressed an interest in Prague?"

"No," Mistress said, scratching Penny's ears. "Never."

Penny perked up at the mention of Cynthia, Mistress's pup. Whenever they mentioned Cynthia lately, it was with concern, worry, sadness. Not like Cecilia, whose mentions were very clearly the way Paddy was discussed when he died. Cecilia was dead, but something was wrong with Cynthia. Illness, perhaps. Injury. It seemed to be why Master was never home, why the Grave One was a constant and irksome presence.

The Grave One appeared to want to say something else, but Penny could see mild distress on Mistress's face and she shuffled forward so her paws were on Mistress's lap. She nuzzled Mistress's cheek with her nose, licking at her jaw, kissing her face until it softened. The Grave One backed out of the room, and Penny continued to lavish Mistress with affectionate attention.

"I know," Mistress said, fondly, kissing Penny's fur. "I know, darling."

Penny did not understand the words, but the tone was soothing, and she appreciated the closeness and steadiness of Mistress.

Penny's memory was long. She remembered Mistress and Master before their pups, when they were still practically pups, themselves. She remembered the pregnancies, and the births, the trials of growth to their little family. She had seen Mistress grow and change, and instead of growing bolder and wiser, in many ways Mistress grew meeker and milder.

"I wish everything were as simple as loving you," Mistress said, tapping Penny's nose gently and smiling. "And having you love me, back."

As Mistress scratched Penny's ears, Penny's tail wagged furiously, and she pawed at Mistress's lap for a moment before rolling over onto her back, presenting her belly to be rubbed. Mistress obliged, as she always did, and she said a string of words that meant nothing to Penny, but her voice was calm and cool and pristine, like the swimming pool in the middle of a still summer night. No sign of frustration or fear or anxiety, which was precisely what Penny wanted for her Mistress. If she couldn't take away the culprits of the emotional distress, at the very least, Penny could delay the reactions to them.

"I suppose I'll have to eat lunch," Mistress said after a great deal of time, scratching her nose and looking out the window again. "The sun looks like lunch time. Let's get you lot fed first, shall we?"

Penny barked her approval at the mention of food.

/-/

 _After a quick lunch in the real world – it was getting so hard to keep track of waking or dreaming, so confusing – Rabastan all but carried Catherine to the sitting room, where he pressed a string of kisses down her neck._

 _When she stiffened, he said, "Is it the dreams again? Have you been having more?"_

 _She hummed and finally admitted, "It's very strange for me. I suppose it's strange for you, too."_

 _"What's bothering you, my love?"_

 _"Well, I'm married to someone else. And…and you're my uncle."_

 _"Your uncle," he said, almost teasing. "How interesting. Why should it bother me?"_

 _Catherine shrugged, frowning, and said, "Well, aren't dreams supposed to be representation of subconscious desire? Or something like that."_

 _Rabastan sat up, laughing._

 _"Well, sure," he said, brushing hair out of her face. "But that can mean all sorts of things. It's just a fantasy, darling. We've all had them."_

 _"Fantasy," she repeated, letting the word sink in as he kissed her neck again._

 _"It must be exciting, getting to live a fantasy every night when you go to sleep," he teased, letting his fingers slide up her thigh. "And perhaps even sometimes when you doze off in the middle of the day."_

 _Catherine hummed, realizing what he was suggesting. Her dream was not necessarily a representation of desire to be married to someone else, but a desire to have an affair, a slightly incestuous one, perhaps? The excitement she couldn't have in life, wrapped up in a dream. Nothing she would act out in real life, but something she would…do in dream? Seduce her uncle while her husband was away? Even in a dream…._

 _"I'm actually quite jealous," he said, kissing her jaw. "I'd love to live out my fantasies, but somehow they rarely happen in my dreams."_

 _"What fantasy?" she asked, wondering if it was something she could help with._

 _An almost wicked gleam in his eye frightened her for a moment, but it was hard to be afraid when his fingers caressed her through her knickers._

 _"For the longest time," he said, his voice husky with desire, "I've had the fantasy of roleplaying with you."_

 _"Roleplaying what?" she asked._

 _There was nothing overtly oppositional about roleplay, not to Catherine. She liked to think she was open-minded, thoughtful._

 _"Father-daughter," he said, raising his eyebrow, his eyes glittering. "And you saying I'm your uncle in the dream, makes me think you'd like it, too. Calling me Daddy as you come."_

 _Catherine licked her lips and hesitated, not sure why this seemed more objectionable than the idea of roleplaying, as a whole. Was it because of her dream? But it seemed so important to him, and if he was right about her dream, about it being a desirous fantasy she was living out while sleeping…._

 _"I suppose we could try it sometime," she said, laughing a little when he perked up eagerly, leaning closer._

 _"Why wait?" he moaned against her lips._

/-/

Harry stared at the window in the apartment the search party were sharing while they combed Prague for signs of Cynthia. Alastor and Severus were both strongly of a mind that she'd moved on, but couldn't be certain how long ago, how far she'd gone. Jason had a minor seizure when they introduced him to the hotel room she'd used while she was in the city, cheap but clean, under the name Cate, paid in cash so no one asked for her surname.

A wave of nausea hit Harry as he glanced over at his heavily medicated, unconscious brother-in-law. The distress of Jason's condition coupled with the knowledge Cynthia was using her mother's name. And she didn't know how much the name meant to Sirius, to Cara, where they'd got it from. Sirius had never told Catherine everything, either, not wanting her to resent the name.

But Harry knew. Just like Harry knew there was something the others weren't telling him, something knew about the search. As Cynthia's father, he felt he had a right to know, but he trusted Severus had his best interests at heart, and would not let anything pass by unsaid that ought to be said.

"Harry?"

He looked up to see Cedric poking his face through the doorway to the room Harry was sharing with Jason.

"How is he?" Cedric asked, frowning. "I won't pretend to understand ancient magic."

"I don't, either," Harry said, scratching the back of his head as Cedric entered. "He's under a lot of stress. Severus says his body is struggling to cope with the levels of two sets of sensation. On top of his own. You know, where we encounter these magical signatures. And I worry…." Cedric hummed to prompt him to continue. "Well, I worry he's getting Kitty's and isn't realizing because of the distance. I worry there's something wrong she's not saying, that she and Rabastan don't want me worrying about because I've got to focus on Cynthia."

Cedric hummed, glancing at the window and frowning, obviously thinking.

"When we find your daughter," Cedric finally said, soft and firm, "regardless of where and how we find her, it will be ill-advised to bring her back to England immediately. The best choice would likely be to stay where she is for a short while, stabilize things. Then take her to France for as long as necessary. And while I know you'll worry about Kitty, I expect your daughter will need you. Jason will need to go to England, of course, to see his wife and recover in solitude. But I will have to make a report to Draco Malfoy immediately. I could always…drop by unannounced, just see if she's alright. With your approval."

Harry didn't like the way it seemed like spying on his wife, but he agreed, deciding if there was nothing he needed to know, Cedric would tell him so. And if something was wrong, Cedric would deal with it in the best way he could, which would be a far more level and reasoned reaction than anything Harry could manage.

"Alright," he said. "When the time comes, if it turns out like you suppose, we'll try it."

 **A/N: So, the search is in Prague, some of the ugly truths are coming to the fore, and Rabastan pushes Catherine just a bit further in his desperate desires.**

 **Review Prompt: How do you think Catherine's going to take to this new suggestion? Is the daddy roleplay a bridge too far?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan get rid of anybody else who tries to stop him being with Catherine (i.e. Harry or one of the dogs)? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: No, he tries to work within the limitations of reality. If he tried to get rid of Harry, even with all his skills, there would be a lot of questions unanswered. Her family (and Harry's) would search until they had their answers, and he'd never be able to explain it away. Similar with the dogs. It's more work than it's worth to get rid of any of them, and unlike Ryana, they aren't capable of just leaving the grounds if they want. And what's more, Rabastan doesn't blame Harry or the dogs for any of Catherine's suffering. He irrationally held Ryana responsible for all of it. He actually quite likes Harry, just wants what he has. Not like Sirius, whom he despises secretly.**

 **Q: Why did you pick Hufflepuff for Kitty? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Another Part 2 question! I went back and forth on Kitty, but in the end, there were several defining factors. One was that I didn't want her and Harry in the same House. Giving them some distance was for the best, both during the Prank War and to allow them more reason to use their tools and sneak off campus while they were dating. I toyed with both Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Another thing was thinking about where Cara would have ended up, and I decided Cara would have been in Hufflepuff. The real key was thinking about what Catherine values most – loyalty. More than anything else in the world. It's the stick by which she measures herself and everyone else, which is why Harry is the person she fell in love with. For all his potential faults, he's exceptionally loyal. Which is why in my imaginings for Part 4, she's going to have a bit of a…breakdown. Measuring herself by that loyalty stick.**

 **Q: Does Rhiannon know that they're being followed so that's why her and Cynthia move so often? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Think of it more as using up a place. The magic that's happening, the magic that has the search so worried, has a way of actually filling a physical space, and when it's chock full, Rhiannon moves them to another place. I think she suspects someone probably is looking, but right now she doesn't have a sense of how close or far away they might be, and she's not concerned about it.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia develop a drug addiction? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Now that was an interesting one. I really had to think about it. I actually looked up the definition of addiction: "the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma." I think we can all agree this definition is a perfect description of Catherine and Harry's dilemma, but I wouldn't say it's a good descriptor of Cynthia's. Mostly because any trauma she suffers at the end of this story, none of it comes from ceasing the use of drugs. She will suffer more from quitting drink than the tablet.**

 **Q: Will Catherine keep on fighting the dream, or will she eventually believe it's real and Rabastan is her husband? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Well, I'd say at this point she believes it, but part of her is still fighting. She still misses Harry, for one, even in the dream-state. And Rabastan's pressing in this chapter is going to cause some more internal turmoil he doesn't anticipate. So even while she believes, she's still fighting.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	20. Numb

**A/N: Here's a bonus chapter for y'all!**

 **-C**

 _Every night that goes between, I feel a little less. – Storm, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Cynthia moaned as she let the tablet Rhiannon left dissolve on her tongue. She didn't know the people in their hotel room, but she did like the way the woman between her thighs was treating her. It paid for the room and the food, so she didn't argue, and anyway, the mass of sensations could be pleasant. Certainly, a pleasant distraction from the agony that plagued her when she was alone. The more people, the more sensation. The more sensation, the less memory she had to worry about.

A nude man crossed the room. Cynthia couldn't be sure whether he was swaying or the room was spinning around her, but it was a dizzying effect. She closed her eyes and just allowed herself to feel as he leaned down to kiss her neck, nipping at her skin as he moved down to find her breast.

The world moved in a whirl, of pleasure and warmth and enticing sounds. Cynthia could barely keep track of how many people were in the room, much less how many times she climaxed before she passed out. When she woke again with the room in focus, Rhiannon was lounging in a chair and the room was pristine, as though no one had been there.

"You made bank," Rhiannon said, smirking. "We could go clear to Brazil this way."

"Are we going to go that far?" Cynthia asked.

In France, or even Amsterdam, she would have been afraid of such a prospect. In Prague, she might have been nervous. Laying on a Berlin hotel bed, her hands resting on her bare, bruised skin, Cynthia felt very little at all. She simply wondered if there was much chance of them actually going to Brazil, or if Rhiannon was speaking figuratively.

"If we need," Rhiannon said, sashaying over to Cynthia and tracing a finger lightly from Cynthia's toes all the way up her body to her chin. "It all depends on what you need, Little One."

Cynthia hummed, closing her eyes and feeling Rhiannon's hand on her body, cold and soft, like a breath on a warm day.

"Does that distress you, Little One?" Rhiannon asked, her voice almost teasing.

"No," Cynthia sighed, truthfully. She couldn't imagine feeling properly distressed. Especially not about something so small. "I'd follow you anywhere."

"That's what I like to hear," Rhiannon said, straddling Cynthia's chest, not pressing her weight down, but allowing it to go to her knees as her body poised above Cynthia teasingly. "I expect some of your new friends will return tomorrow, and bring even more new friends. Won't that be nice?" Cynthia hummed, tracing her fingers on Rhiannon's legs lovingly. "Do you enjoy being touched, Little One?"

"Yes," Cynthia sighed as Rhiannon's fingers petted her face.

"Do you enjoy being filled?"

"Yes," Cynthia moaned, recalling a vague memory of a man so wide she thought she'd split in two, and how wonderful it had been when her body grew used to the pain and began to register the pleasure of the fullness.

"Do you enjoy being tasted?"

"Yes," Cynthia whined.

"Aren't you happy I've introduced you to all this wonderful pleasure and sensation?"

"More than anything," Cynthia sighed.

When Rhiannon shifted so her thighs straddled Cynthia's face, there was no hesitation. Instead, Cynthia eagerly lifted her head, lapping between Rhiannon's thighs, expressing her gratitude for the fulfillment her pilgrimage had taken her to find. Somehow, even knowing Rhiannon was above her face, Cynthia seemed to feel something caressing her breasts, something rubbing and even entering her core, deep and strong and wonderful. Ghosts of her afternoon, her mind explained away before she decided not to think anymore. All that was necessary was to taste, to feel, to thank and worship.

Cynthia could foresee a day when nothing in the world felt of anything but the pleasure she'd learned to prioritize, and her utter devotion and love for Rhiannon. Rather than finding that a fearful or anxious future, Cynthia saw it as promising, positive, beautiful.

After hours of play, she curled up on the hotel bed and felt Rhiannon tuck her into the bed.

"Where are you going?" Cynthia asked sleepily, presuming that Rhiannon not wrapping her body around Cynthia for the night meant Rhiannon planned to go out.

"Never you mind, darling," Rhiannon said sweetly. "You need your rest. I'll be back by the time you wake. Dream of sweet at pleasant things."

Cynthia hummed, closing her eyes. Dreams came quickly, but they were a muddled mess of heated desire, lustful pleasure, and the agony that came from memories of her sister sneaking in and reminding Cynthia of why she'd left England in the first place.

When she woke in the morning, Cynthia would be coated with a slick layer of sweat from tossing and turning at every reminder of family and home, frequent and fast, slipped into her melted montage of sexual imagery and yet so little touched her emotionally. The physical distress of the memories with the physical arousal of the erotic imagery came up from her unconscious mind to use her body as a conduit, but the images and her body's responses scarcely touched her soul.

/-/

Cara frowned as Sirius scribbled a reply letter to someone. She had a horrible feeling he'd hired some kind of private investigator to look into Cynthia's disappearance, only she knew he'd never be so foolish.

So why was he keeping a secret from her?

"Sirius?" she said gently, and he grunted without looking up. "Sirius, I'm making tea before bed. Are you going to want some?"

"No, love," he said, still not looking up. "I'll be up in a minute. Don't wait on me."

Cara didn't like the sound of that, but she made herself a cup of tea and stalked up the stairs, listening for her husband. He was still scribbling away at that letter in his study, but she did as he asked and went straight to their bedroom. She set her tea on the nightstand and tried to unfasten her dress with her trembling hand. She was so caught between physical focus on her goal and mental focus on curiosity over what Sirius was up to, that she didn't hear him enter.

A small, almost amused sound came from his throat, and she felt his fingers on her fastenings. Cara relaxed her arms as he kissed her neck gently and unfastened her dress tracing his fingers down her spine as he bared it.

"You're not tired, are you?" he said in her ear.

Well, whatever he'd been writing, it was putting him in a very good mood. Cara closed her eyes, feeling the delicious heat from his fingertips.

"I have to watch your troublesome grandchildren in the morning."

Sirius smiled against her neck and pressed his body against her back, his hands roaming her body through the seemingly thin fabric of the dress, creating a delicious heat everywhere they went.

"But you're not tired," he whispered, and then he let his teeth tug at her skin. Cara tried to swallow the moan this evoked, but she couldn't. Sirius knew her too well.

And in truth, he was right. Any tiredness he had felt was gone now, and she shrugged off her dress, letting it pool at her feet and enjoying the full-body shudder her husband experienced at the suddenness of her disrobing. Before he could regain his train of thought and action, she climbed onto their bed and looked up at him, smiling expectantly as he pulled off his shirt and shimmied out of his trousers as quickly as possible. Sirius climbed on top of her, one hand balancing his body and the other tracing deliciously light up her leg as he moved his face close to hers.

Cara breathed in, relieved not to smell either a hint of cigarettes, or any of the spells he'd used to freshen his breath in the days when he tried his hardest to hide cigarettes from her, when they were young.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, taking advantage of his distraction to roll them over, but he laughed against her lips and rolled them back again. The sudden violence of the motion was accompanied by a clattering, tumbling, and shattering.

The teacup, Cara realized, about to pull away from the kiss.

"Leave it," Sirius murmured against her lips, nibbling on the lower lip to punctuate the almost-demand.

"It'll stain the rug," Cara said as his fingers slipped into her knickers.

"Fuck the rug."

/-/

Cynthia turned on the television as she drank the tea Rhiannon made for her breakfast. She watched the news, rubbing her forehead as she tried to get a sense of what was going on in the world outside. She didn't especially care, but it was part of her routine, as it was easier to do without getting dress than getting her hands on a newspaper was.

"Anything interesting?" Rhiannon asked.

"Not especially," Cynthia said, stretching. "Some tourism festival in a nearby town and…."

Her voice trailed away as the pale, blonde woman on the screen said the picture being shown was that of a missing girl, a runaway who had left her home country – home country not stated on the report – and operating under an unknown name. Anyone who had seen the girl or had any information on her whereabouts was to call the tipline.

"That's my face," Cynthia said, recognizing the photograph. She wondered how they'd found a Muggle-friendly photograph of her, and she supposed it was one of the ones Columbine's uncle took when she went on holiday with them to Yorkshire a few years gone. "Rhiannon, my face is on the screen, my family is looking for me."

Rhiannon's head turned so sharply it almost seemed unnatural, and she looked at the screen, which changed a moment later to a story about the financial state of the Muggle authority in the area.

"It was me," Cynthia insisted, although she felt nothing but a mildly stunned sensation.

"I saw," Rhiannon assured her. "I saw it, Little One. You're not ready yet, are you?"

Was she ready to go home? Cynthia wasn't sure. She certainly didn't know how she would explain anything she'd done to her parents, to her grandparents, to Columbine.

She thought of Cecilia and felt a horrible stab of agony as she thought that her parents had lost one child, and then she took off, and how they must feel about that.

"No, I didn't think so," Rhiannon said, brushing a tear away Cynthia hadn't even realized she'd shed. "We'll move on before nightfall. Was that a local station?"

"Erm…it's out of…"

Cynthia frowned, trying to translate the German station information well enough to understand whether it was local.

"No, it's on the Czech border, but that's…that's where we came from."

"I recall," Rhiannon said, her voice cool as her touches. "Don't worry, darling, you're nearly ready, but until you're there, we need to keep moving more frequently, just in case. Short darts as opposed to long stays. Have you enjoyed Berlin?"

"Yes," Cynthia said without thinking or feeling anything. Her body cooed at a memory of fullness and excruciating pleasure blended with the euphoria of the tablets Rhiannon gave her, but her soul was untouched by any emotion about Berlin or anything that happened within it.

"Good girl," Rhiannon said, kissing Cynthia's temple. "Let's get your things. Did they use a name?"

"Name unknown," Cynthia said.

Still, neither of them was convinced the name was fully unknown, so they agreed to avoid having her face recognized, as much as possible.

"I can do my makeup," she told Rhiannon, half-lying. "It'll make me almost unrecognizable, for a little while."

A bit of quick transfiguration, and she knew her passport would adjust to match. Rhiannon agreed to this plan, and Cynthia slipped into the bathroom, checking the mirror and starting at the sight of her face, streaked with mascara, tired and pale, with dark circles blooming under her eyes and a flatness her hair had never had, even when she was ill.

And she felt nothing about it, raising her wand.

/-/

James rubbed his eyes as Remus poured the firewhiskey. Despite Severus's assurance that Remus was perfectly welcome to use the headmaster's office while he was on the continent, Remus had opted to keep his own office, perhaps out of the habit of decades, but James supposed it was just as much a wish that by not moving, it would somehow bring the whole thing to a close more quickly.

"Cara's got her concerns," Remus said softly. "How's Lily?"

"A wreck," James admitted, lifting the glass slightly in thanks. "Come to that, I'm a wreck. Sirius has so many grandchildren, but I just have – had – the two. If something happens to her, Moony…."

Remus nodded as the words choked in James's throat.

The most frustrating thing for James was feeling so bloody helpless. When his own child was rebellious with a girl, he had something he could do. He had a good relationship with his son, and he was able to use that trust to keep tabs, make sure they were relatively safe. But he'd never felt a need to keep a special eye on either Cecilia or Cynthia, not really. Their rebellions were so minor compared with their parents, and although he knew Cynthia would sneak out on occasion, he'd never worried about her.

Now he wished he had done.

"Severus tells me Cedric's had some discrete Muggle work done in the German-speaking regions. They're still in Prague, but they have a feeling she went to Germany. And her German isn't as good as her French," Remus said with a shrug, "but she could still get by."

"Not as a local, though," James said with a nod. "Where does she even get that? Both her parents are hopeless with languages, and Lily says I hardly have a grip on English some days."

"Her grandfather, of course," Remus said with a small smile. "Sirius learned French so easily, same way he learned everything else. Could have learned every bloody language in the world if he'd had a mind. And actually, Caro's got a natural linguistic instinct, but she's largely ignored it. Finds it all dull."

James snorted. Caroline found most things to be dull. That was the problem with being so brilliant.

"Remus," James said softly, "I think Lily's considering giving me Cheering Charms when I'm home on weekends. At school, smiling is so reflexive. I was largely happy here as a child, and when I started as a teacher. Smiling just sort of happens. But when I get home and the muscles relax…."

Remus nodded. He must know. Lily must have told him how she'd woke him up almost every night for weeks when he was home, telling him everything was fine when the tears he'd shed in his sleep said so plainly that nothing was fine.

"It won't hurt anything, Prongs. And before you say you're in better shape than Sirius, like that's an argument, remember that you breaking down could only make things harder on him. Take the Cheering Charms. Consider it an order, if that helps."

It didn't help, but James agreed, wishing this would end and Cynthia would come home.

/-/

Cynthia looked around the Berlin train station, aware of how many people there were who could see her, and recognize her if the spells didn't hold. Rhiannon had been pleased with her ability to look suitably different, and Cynthia didn't feel comfortable pushing her luck with anything too different to explain away with Muggle means.

She saw the cameras, realized how simple the Muggle world make tracking someone who hadn't used magic, and she fought the urge to do a spell to block herself from the cameras. She wasn't even sure she could do it without causing a minor incident in the station, and she decided that hiding in crowds was for the best. At the very least, it would slow them long enough for her to be ready.

"Have your ticket?" Rhiannon double-checked.

"Yes," Cynthia said, glancing down at her one-way ticket to Vienna. They'd talked about taking something other than a train, but she supposed trains were the easiest way to hide, really. Changing her face a bit ought to be enough.

It had to be enough.

"We won't linger there long," Rhiannon said. "Just a quick few days in Vienna, then we'll move on to somewhere else."

"Will we end up leaving Europe?" Cynthia asked.

"We'll just have to wait and see, Little One," Rhiannon said, smiling fondly at Cynthia, who felt a rush of love and affection for her lover. She wanted to thank her, but she couldn't think of a way to express it appropriately in the middle of the crowded train station, so Cynthia settled on thanking her the moment they were situated in Vienna.

Rhiannon would probably expect it, but that didn't make Cynthia any less eager to show her gratitude.

The cool female voice over the intercom announced that the train for Vienna would be arriving in five minutes on the platform, and Cynthia joined a group of people, queueing for the train. She lost track of Rhiannon as she moved through the ticketing stiles, but she knew she'd find her on the train.

Cynthia didn't worry as she moved with the sea of people. She didn't panic as her passport was glanced at before she got onto the train. She didn't feel a sense of relief as she was moved through without incident, nor a sense of accomplishment as she stepped onto the train, finding her place quickly, and smiling at Rhiannon, who settled in with her, setting a cool hand on Cynthia's bare knee, caressing it.

In truth, even as Cynthia closed her eyes, resting her head on the cool, dark glass of the train window, she felt nothing at all.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia knows she's being followed, Rhiannon steps up her timetable, and Sirius is being fishy.**

 **Review Prompt: How far do you think Cynthia will run before all is over?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Did you think about having Harry in the [Triwizard] tournament? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: I did ponder it, but Harry was only in the tournament because someone was cheating it to try to kill him. Because there was no motive, I left him out of it.**

 **Q: Cedric – Does he still fancy Catherine? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Cedric has never married. He's still attracted to Catherine, but like Ron, he decided a long time ago they wouldn't have worked out. But he does care about her – first real crush and all that – so he's pouring himself into this full-on.**

 **Q: Will Harry be happy or mad when he finds Cynthia? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Harry could never be mad at Cynthia, especially now he's her only child. He's going to be happy, but more relieved than anything else. There will be tears.**

 **Q: If you could change on thing about this story, what would it be? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: This was another Part 2 question, and to be honest, I've never been a big one for second guessing or regrets. I might have spent more time developing the Karkaroff thing in Part 1, but I didn't know I was going to do that when I wrote Part 1, so I didn't even mention him. So…maybe that? But I'm pretty satisfied with it, overall.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	21. Jumping at Shadows

**A/N: Here's a second bonus! You guys are fabulous!**

 **-C**

 _God have mercy. I think I'm going insane. The Devil's been gettin' at me. He's got me down again, got me jumpin' at shadows, just thinking about my life. – Jumping at Shadows, Fleetwood Mac (Buster Bennett)_

Lily had an afternoon off, so she decided to check in at Malfoy Manor. Astoria greeted her at the gates.

"Narcissa is well enough for company," Astoria said softly. "She's just had news from the Healer, though. It's not looking…good."

"No, I didn't think it would," Lily said gently. "But she's not suffering."

"For a woman like her?" Astoria said with an almost wry smile. "The physical debilitation is more painful than physical pain would be. She'll make a false recovery soon enough, but there will be plenty of relapses."

"Like Lucius, yes," Lily said, frowning.

A dormant wizarding retrovirus, and Lily had long suspected from Lucius's diagnosis that Narcissa would eventually show symptoms as well. When she arrived in the sitting room, where Narcissa was laying on the sofa, curled up in a blanket, Draco was having a quiet conversation with his mother. He stood swiftly when Lily entered the room.

"How are you today, Madam Potter?" he said, as though he hadn't seen her that morning to say the search would likely leave Prague soon.

"Well as can be expected, Draco, thank you," she said, sitting where Narcissa gestured to. "May I ask…?"

"The Healer tested us both," Draco said, glancing down at the tea set out, likely for the Healer's visit. "I am free of the disease, even in dormancy. Thank you for your work on developing the identification of the dormant virus."

Lily said nothing. She could have insisted she'd done it for the good of wizarding kind, for the health of all who might have such viruses, but she knew there was no point lying. She'd had her concerns that Narcissa and Draco would have the same retrovirus, and so she had taken up the mantel of research once more, and now they knew the worries would end. Draco would not be plagued with this.

"Astoria has it, though," Narcissa said softly. "As she was here, she was tested as well. Draco was just suggesting Healers do mandatory testing with every appointment of an untested person, and that all Muggle-borns be tested before entry at Hogwarts. Even if we never find a cure, at least people will know what to expect."

"A wise and sensible precaution," Lily said, her throat tightening. "Any news from Severus on the matter?"

"He doesn't know," Narcissa said, her face going slightly pink. "Why should he? He is doing far more important business, and anyway, there's nothing he'll be able to do about it. He knows I was too ill to look after Catherine, and that is enough."

Lily saw Draco bite his lip before he excused himself, citing a need to return to London. Both women nodded at him, and Lily spoke very gently.

"He will be devastated," she said, not bothering to weight the implications further. Narcissa was a clever woman. "You know he will throw himself at finding a cure."

"I know," Narcissa said, frowning. "And I expect you to keep him from making a fool of himself. But it's better he doesn't know anything about it. Not until your granddaughter is home. For everyone's sake."

Although Lily didn't like it, she agreed to respect Narcissa's wishes on the matter, and resolved to start considering a cure on her own. Lily rather specialized in hopeless medical cases, and that was a start.

/-/

Penny nuzzled Mistress's face as they paused on their walk, her paws on Mistress's lap, her face pressing to Mistress's neck and jaw, then licking up her cheek.

"Oh, darling," Mistress sighed, her words heavy, weighted down like her shoulders had grown. "Darling, darling. I know. I know." Then she sighed again and said, "Actually, Penny, I don't know. That's the worst part. I don't know, most of the time, if I'm in a dream or reality. And when I think I know, I must ask again because I need to be sure. They're just such different places. Why would my subconscious mind do this to me? What do you think?"

Penny looked up at Mistress's wide, pleading eyes, and she did not know what Mistress wanted from her. Whatever it was, Penny knew she couldn't possibly give it, so she whined and kissed Mistress's jaw, feeling Mistress relax after several kisses, wrapping her arms around Penny's body. Mistress buried her face in Penny's fur. Penny could not feel the moisture from Mistress's eyes, but she knew from the trembling of Mistress's body and the strangled sound she was trying to hide in Penny's fur, Mistress's eyes were leaking moisture.

Somewhere, Penny knew, the Grave One was watching. It seemed the Grave One was always watching, even when Penny could not see him. If she was alone with Mistress, somewhere, the Grave One was looking on with his unchanging face.

/-/

Catherine closed the door and walked upstairs to change after her walk. She stripped off the trousers and jumper she'd worn for her walk and was just going to look for a dress, but the world seemed to melt away around her.

 _Catherine woke to Rabastan's hands on her skin, his lips teasing at her jaw._

 _"Did you sleep well?" he teased._

 _She glanced over to the floor where she'd undressed in her dream, but there were no clothes there. She relaxed at this consistency, although she couldn't shake the strange niggling in the back of her mind that something was wrong._

 _"I suppose so," she said, licking her lips. From the way he was looking at her, she knew he was going to ask if they could roleplay again._

 _It wasn't that she hated it, and they'd done it a few times, now, but there was always something highly uncomfortable about him asking her to call him Daddy. She knew it was a thing people did, that it was just fantasy, no harm in it, but something in her did not like her using the word in such a way._

 _He started to ask if they could, but she said it was fine, and yes, they could, before he could worry she didn't enjoy it and plead with her again. She knew she was going to agree to it sooner or later, so she might as well agree to it now. When it meant this much, it was a small price to pay._

 _Rabastan groaned, rubbing her through her knickers as he kissed her neck again. Catherine closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation rather than the roleplay implications. She allowed each stage to happen, feeling and giving and enjoying. When she was on top of him, riding him, he looked up at her with adoring eyes._

 _"Say it," he pleaded, and Catherine closed her eyes again, feeling a small wave of panic rush through her. It was dulled, but it was there, and she knew she didn't like this game. "Catherine, please."_

 _She'd agreed, she told herself, taking a deep breath as she moved. She'd promised him, and she certainly couldn't go back on it now._

 _"Daddy," she said, hating herself as soon as she'd said it, but opening her eyes to see the change in Rabastan, who gave her an encouraging, adoring nod. She moaned as he stroked a spot deep inside of her. "Daddy," she said again, more of a sigh this time._

 _He encouraged her to continue with this, his own talk a stream of swearing and vulgarities fitting into this fantasy, and she tuned out of the words. They became background noise, and she focused her attention on the feel of him moving inside her, the waves of her pleasure building and building. The more she spoke what he wanted her to speak, the more rapidly he moved, the more desperately he gazed at her, and the more her own pleasure seemed to increase._

 _In a way, it might have reinforced, but as soon as she came down from her high, Catherine felt dirty, like she needed to brush her teeth. She told him she needed to use the toilet, and she slipped away from his arms, locking the door, brushing her teeth, slipping to the floor of the bathroom and feeling her cheeks wet, not only with sweat._

 _She'd try a little longer, she told herself. For his sake. But if it didn't stop making her feel this way, playing this game, she'd have to try to put a stop to it. Gently._

/-/

Rabastan left her under a spell to induce sleep, at least for a few hours, dreamless. His whole body trembled with excitement as he went to his guest bedroom to shower, dress, reflect. She'd seemed very distant all day, like she was attempting to sort through things, but while he didn't want to cause a mental breakdown, Rabastan knew he couldn't give her too much space. Catherine was a highly intelligent, rational woman, and had already proven herself to be mentally resilient, albeit vulnerable.

As insanely arousing as it was for him to roleplay as her father, as satisfying as it was to hear Sirius's little girl call him Daddy as he drove her to climax, Rabastan knew she did not enjoy it the way he did. He had hoped she would take to the suggestion, but he could see it would take coaxing for her to accept the idea without hesitation, and she likely would never accept it completely, learn to enjoy it.

He put up a ward on the house and reinforced the sleeping charm on Catherine before going to the nearest village to meet Lily Potter for tea.

Lily Potter still had a great deal of youthfulness about her, for a woman of their age. She had the energy she'd had as a teenager, the determination she'd had all her life, and admittedly still held a great deal of beauty for someone who'd seen so many years, so many difficult years. She didn't have as many gray hairs as Cara, or if she did they hid better in her auburn hair than Cara's dark brown waves.

"Rabastan," she said as he entered, and she made to stand, but he gestured for her not to get up, and he kissed her hand before sitting. He almost smiled at the thought of where his lips had touched not an hour before. "How is she?"

"Catherine is very tired," he said softly. "She's resting. She hasn't slept well of late, so I've put a Charm on. Dreamless, so it has its drawbacks, but it's nonaddictive, and she won't notice the difference."

"That's probably wise," Lily said, frowning as she poured him the tea she'd ordered before he arrived. "Sirius is a puzzle. Cara says he fluctuates between being a complete wreck, worse than anything we've seen before, and being his old self. He's plotting something, but she doesn't know what."

"He won't get onto the grounds, if he's thinking of seeing his daughter," Rabastan said darkly. "We've taken all possible precautions."

"Be careful," Lily warned. "You know him. Nobody's better at breaking in or out of anywhere in the world than Sirius Black. I've never known a place he couldn't get into, if he put his mind to it. That was his specialty, in the Order."

"Yes," Rabastan said, his lips twitching. "Even the Death Eaters. Well, you ladies and the teachers up at the school can keep an eye on him. I'll keep Catherine well-protected. She's alright. She really is. It's just…difficult."

Lily nodded, her eyes darkening. He knew it must be difficult for her, with her son on the continent, her grandchildren missing, and she and her husband didn't even have the space to grieve because they were too busy taking care of Sirius.

"I've seen Narcissa, like you suggested."

"She's still ill?"

"It's what we feared," Lily said, rubbing her neck. "Draco doesn't have it. Astoria does."

Rabastan's blood chilled and he set down his tea, folding his hands in his lap. Without knowing when Lucius and Narcissa and Astoria picked up the virus, it was impossible to say who was at risk and who was not. If not for Astoria, he might have assumed it was from something decades gone by, perhaps something they picked up at school, or while they were courting, or in the early days of their marriage, dormant before Draco came along.

Now?

"How difficult is it to administer the test?"

Lily nodded, looking at her tea. She understood the question. They could test Catherine, perhaps even without Catherine knowing, and if she was clear, it was one less thing to worry about.

"After tea," Lily said softly, "I can give you a few sets of instructions. There's three separate tests. Two spells, one sample analysis."

"What kind of sample?" Rabastan asked, not wanting to have to draw Catherine's blood, not sure how he could do it if she didn't notice.

"You've got a few options. Blood, skin, hair. Blood's the best, but if you get a hair with an intact follicle, that would be fine. Skin's the least effective. Test yourself as well. Scorpius is coming to report to his father soon, and Draco and I have arranged to have the instructions sent to Severus. They can test the whole search party, and Cynthia, when the find her."

Rabastan nodded. He had half a mind to applaud Lily's strength and optimism, but he knew there was no way to do it gracefully and supportively, so he simply thought the words.

"Poor Draco," Rabastan said softly. "How long do you suppose she has?"

"It's dormant now," Lily said, rubbing her eyes. "Impossible to say. Once the retrovirus is triggered, she might have a year, maybe five if she's lucky. And I'll look for some cure, a treatment at least, see how long we can give her. But yes, poor Draco indeed. I've sat down, given him the full prognosis and information, and you've no idea how hard it was to say his wife would die, but there was no way to say if that's a year or ten years. But they won't grow old together. He took it remarkably well."

Rabastan hummed. He looked at Lily, and he wanted to ask, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"I've already tested Cara and Delia, they're both clear," Lily said softly. "I'm working on getting samples for testing everyone else we know and care about. The list is long. Adra's meeting me tomorrow after lunch with her publisher. And Narcissa's got about three years, I'd say, if she keeps on the way she is. I've got a few plots to get a couple more years, but first I have to know who else is at risk, get the testing to be a standard practice. Draco's working on it."

"Good," Rabastan said, his shoulders relaxing. "If Draco's working on it, it will be done and done right."

"Indeed."

/-/

Cara had Lily waiting when Sirius came home, and Sirius blinked at both women, surprised.

"Did I miss a holiday?" he asked.

Cara relaxed, knowing he was in a good mood, which was a start. She left to get the tea while Lily explained Narcissa's condition, explained the testing she and Draco were quietly doing. When Cara came back out, Lily was taking a blood sample from a very concerned-looking Sirius. Cara poured tea, and Sirius said, "How in the bloody hell are you keeping it from Severus if he's going to be tested?"

"Scorpius has a script he's been given," Lily said with a tight smile. "As far as Scorpius even knows, his grandmother's condition is still undetermined. He's a good liar, but you know Severus." Sirius hummed. "He's under the impression I've improved testing, and Draco and I are considering it as a new social welfare measure, so we want to see how effective it is. Our family and friends provide a sizable sample and cross-section of wizarding society."

"Reasonable," Sirius said with a nod. He glanced at Cara as Lily began testing his blood, and he gave her a weak smile. "How's your day, love?"

"She's told you I'm clear, I take it?" Cara said, knowing from the way he relaxed, Lily hadn't mentioned yet.

"I've instructed Rabastan in how to do the testing," Lily said, smiling. "You're all clear, Sirius. He'll test himself and Kitty, and he'll give us the news. I expect she's fine. All of her more immediate relatives I've tested are clear. I'll be at Prewett Manor tomorrow. Caro before she leaves for her meeting in Wales, and then Damon's going to hold down his children and give them sweets while I take blood samples."

Cara offered to help, and Lily agreed. The sample taking didn't hurt, but the concept was concerning for children, and they always tried to shy away.

The three of them enjoyed their tea, talked about everything but health and family, everything they could to dance around the obvious elephant in the room. Lily and Cara weren't able to discuss the search with Sirius in the room, and Sirius wasn't liable to mention Cynthia or Catherine, knowing the women would only remind him he was supposed to leave those matters to other people.

When Cara walked Lily out after over an hour of tense conversation, she whispered, "I worry about him, Lily."

Lily nodded, glancing up to the second-floor window of their bedroom, where Sirius was likely watching them, perhaps trying to hear or read their lips. His hearing was excellent, but Cara trusted Lily had done some sort of charm to keep their conversation private.

"I do, too, Cate," Lily said earnestly, still looking at the window. "Every day since you were found, I've worried about him. Even when all this is over, I doubt I'll ever stop. Between us, though, we might manage to keep him going and healthy and sane."

Cara closed her eyes and nodded. If only it were ever that simple.

 **A/N: So, Narcissa's illness is terminal, she's not the only one who has it, and Catherine continues to struggle with reality and the things she is being asked to accept.**

 **Review Prompt: Do we think anyone else will have the disease?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan use Polyjuice or will he seduce [Catherine]? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Really, as you've seen, it's not as simple as either thing. The trick is, he wants Catherine to seduce him, in the real world. He wants her to fall in love with him, so Polyjuice wouldn't fit the bill. And he knows Catherine wouldn't simply fall into bed with him without some serious manipulation.**

 **Q: Is Sirius going to start smoking again? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Sirius has definitely flirted with the idea, but he will not. He's finding some healthier things to channel his energy into, and whenever he falters, reminding himself of Catherine – the reason he quit in the first place – is helpful for redirecting his energy.**

 **Q: Will Catherine eventually get both worlds mixed up, or will she always remember Harry is her husband? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: That's a complicated question. She will always remember that Harry is her husband in one world, Rabastan in the other, but she is not always going to be sure which world is real. And if you think something's a dream, you feel a lot safer doing the wrong thing in it….**

 **Q: Will the conversation with Harry make Catherine work out the two different worlds she is in? (Th3Gingerwizard, Joe-Wizard)**

 **A: I wouldn't say it helps her get any closer to knowing what's real, but it does throw a monkey wrench in Rabastan's plans, in the short-term and long-term. It does continue to muddy the waters as well, as she's trying to figure out what's real. But no, it won't answer all her questions.**

 **Q: Will Catherine find somebody else to satisfy her like Ryana did? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: If you are asking whether Catherine's going to pull someone else into her marriage so she can sleep with women, that's a no. They selected Ryana because she was a special case – someone who had already been a sexual partner of Catherine's, whose life had been altered because of Catherine's poor choices, and whom Harry and Catherine could trust not to cause problems in the marriage. Nobody else would fit that bill.**

 **Q: Why did you pair Ron and Luna together? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: In the books – and the films, actually – Ron had a deep appreciation for Luna, and found her quite amusing. And Luna, in turn, found Ron interesting and amusing. Luna looks at Ron and doesn't judge him by the same stick everybody else does, so he's never going to come up short to Harry like he might feel he would with everybody else. And Ron is much more willing to take Luna seriously. After all, he's grown up with a father who is very…absurdly interested in his field. Ron can respect that, and see its value. Her blunt honesty is good for him, and he's highly devoted, which is good for her. I always thought they'd be a better match than Ron/Hermione.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia start to think more about her family now? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: She will, off and on. There's a time coming soon where it will be her primary concern, but not yet. Some things have to happen first.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	22. Never Cry Out

**A/N: Here's Bonus Three! And y'all are very close to earning the fourth, might even earn it while I'm editing and posting this one!**

 **-C**

 _Lousy lovers pick their prey, but they never cry out loud. – Gold Dust Woman, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

It would not last long. Cynthia looked down on the square, enjoying the feel of Vienna, and she knew it would not last long at all, not like Berlin had. Not like Prague. Rhiannon was already considering where they would go next.

But Cynthia rather liked Vienna. In the little time she'd spent here, she felt she could happily spend a lifetime in this one place. Under different circumstances, in another life, she and Rhiannon could find a flat in the city, make money as they were now used to doing, enjoy each other and the tablet and the pleasure of just being together.

A slight pang shot through her, a reminder of her sister, and her dogs, and her mother. She closed her eyes and recalled the kind, loving green eyes of her father, the way he would pull her onto his lap when she was little. She'd skinned her knee once on the back patio and he'd scooped her up right away, lifting her onto his lap and gently telling her to relax, that it was all going to be alright, that he loved her, and he used his wand to knit the skin back together, leaving a hot sensation where the scrape had been, and no further aftermath.

Cecilia had his knobby knees, the almond shape of his eyes, the tone of his voice, but Cynthia never doubted her father loved and adored them both the same. Cynthia shivered and hugged her arms around her, remembering how he'd hugged her when he came to the school after Cecilia's death, how he held her and pressed his face into her hair, the mutterings of how much he loved her when she apologized for not being there, for not doing enough to save her baby sister. He had trembled, but Cynthia pretended not to notice. Instead, she clung to her father's strong body, wishing he could remove the pain the way he removed a scrape on her skin.

Some things even he couldn't fix.

"Come have a drink, Little One."

Cynthia opened her eyes and glanced at Rhiannon, who was not looking up at her. Perhaps she sensed Cynthia's state of mind, or maybe she looked down before speaking. Cynthia supposed it hardly mattered, and she crossed to the chair, sitting at Rhiannon's feet and taking the glass of vodka without argument.

"Do you prefer men or women, Little One?"

After a few hearty sips of vodka, Cynthia leaned her head on Rhiannon's thigh and closed her eyes. There was certainly something exhilarating about the sensation of being filled, and the man who'd visited the night before, staying across the hall in the hotel, had filled her more than she'd ever been before. It felt nice, and he must have enjoyed it because he asked if she'd go home with him to…wherever he was from. Still…

"Women," she said, feeling Rhiannon's fingers trace through her hair lazily.

"Why's that?" Rhiannon asked, amused.

"Women are…soft and gentle and…."

Cynthia shrugged, but she knew she was dying to say it was because Rhiannon was a woman, and she loved Rhiannon.

"Well, that is good to hear, my Little One," Rhiannon said, caressing Cynthia's hair. "You haven't finished your vodka."

"I want to savor it."

"They have someone new across the hall, now. I believe it's a married couple."

Cynthia nodded. She'd seen them arrive, probably in their fifties. A plain-looking, kindly couple. They didn't seem to speak any English, and she would have guessed they were Italian from the little she'd managed to hear of their conversation. She took another sip of vodka.

"I bet you could make their holiday more…exciting," Rhiannon teased, tracing a finger along the shell of Cynthia's ear, and the girl smiled. It wouldn't be the first married couple, nor the first person who couldn't understand her language, but it would certainly be the first married couple who couldn't understand her language.

"I wouldn't want them to have a boring holiday," Cynthia said, running her fingers through her dark hair and chuckling. She half-wanted to ask to have a tablet before going across the hall and ingratiating herself, but she decided she'd rather save it for after, with Rhiannon.

She downed the rest of her vodka, slipped her knickers off, and left the room. She crossed the hall, knocked on the door, and held up a large bill, frowning with mild concern.

"Change?" she said, watching the woman's confusion. She was glad it was the wife who answered – that made everything so much easier. "Erm, smaller bills?"

The woman seemed to have some idea of what Cynthia wanted – or said she wanted – and she invited Cynthia in. Cynthia let the woman take out her wallet and she sat on the foot of the bed, watching the woman as she pulled out smaller bills to break up the large one. Cynthia thanked her, letting her fingers linger on the woman's. She said soft, warm compliments the woman could not understand, but which she certainly understood the tone of from the way her face flushed. Cynthia traced her fingers playfully up the woman's arm and asked for a drink. The woman seemed to understand this question, and she poured them both a glass of wine. It only took a few sips for the sound of the shower – the woman's husband, no doubt – to sound, and Cynthia grinned, allowing the woman to grow redder with wine and flushing at increasingly sensual touches before she kissed her, tracing her hand up the woman's leg. She took the woman's hand and placed it on her own thigh, guiding it up as she caressed and massaged the woman's breast through her clothing. The woman seemed giddy from the wine and unexpected attention from a beautiful young woman, and she allowed Cynthia to guide her.

Experience told Cynthia it would be nothing to engage the husband in the liaison when his shower ended, and she expected to have his wife undressed and suckling her breasts like an eager slut by then. It felt as though she'd done it a million times, and she hadn't failed in her seduction yet. When the woman shyly – but unbidden – inserted a finger inside of Cynthia, who parted her thighs as encouragement, she knew she had success.

/-/

Lily organized the files of test results, and she was just finishing the latest round when she heard James coming home for the night.

"Lily, where are you?"

"Office," she called back, and she closed the last set of files, stretching as he entered the room.

His face contracted as he realized what she'd been doing and he said, "Rabastan's returned the results?"

"Both clear, thank Merlin," she sighed, standing to greet her husband. "I don't know what Sirius would have done if Kitty tested positive. Still waiting for Scorpius to bring the tests back from the continent, and obviously, we'll have to wait for them to find Cyn."

As if waiting for them to find her wasn't already painful enough, Lily thought bitterly as James wrapped his arms around her. He hummed his understanding, resting his chin on her head. She closed her eyes and thought of picnics she and James would have with Harry and the girls while their mother was at work. Afternoons on the grounds of the manor, or in the village. Cynthia would help make the sandwiches, Cecilia brewing the tea. Ryana would pack the basket if they did it at the manor, but she always gave them space as a family.

Lily had been nervous when Harry told her Ryana would be living with them, a regular and constant part of the marriage, but she had been wrong. Somehow, it worked for them, and if it helped Catherine feel comfortable and content, it was worthwhile. And Ryana was not Padma Patil. She only wanted to be near Catherine, to be allowed to love her. Not an ambitious or selfish bone in her body.

"I keep telling myself this will all work out," James said softly, "but it can't be possible, can it? I mean, Sirius has been absurdly lucky, but his luck has to run out at some point."

"It did," Lily said, shivering.

She could still see the ashes of her granddaughter floating from the urn in her son's hands, out over the Black Lake.

James said nothing, just running his hands along her arms, swaying slightly as he held her, like he was rocking a small child. She closed her eyes and saw him sitting with Harry as a toddler on his knee, his little eyes wide as he looked up at James, and James's voice gentle and warm and loving the way a father's voice was supposed to be. She fell in love with him all over in those early years, every time she saw him being paternal.

"It was worth it," she sighed, resting her head on his chest.

"Hmm?"

"That date. When we were seventeen, when I told you that you'd better make it worthwhile. You did. I've never regretted a day."

"I know," he said cheekily. "Love you, too, Evans."

She pinched his side and snorted.

/-/

Cynthia smiled as the husband spoke nervously to his wife, who continued to caress Cynthia's breasts as he tried to determine what was happening. The wife was about to speak, but Cynthia put a finger to her lips and then gestured for the towel-clad man to approach. He hesitated, but when his wife said nothing he did move closer. She carefully untucked his towel, and as he caught it, trying to keep it from falling to the floor, she grabbed him firmly, and he hesitated. She began to caress him, stroking him to hardness, and he continued to hesitate, his posture stiffening as he stared at Cynthia.

"That's better, isn't it?" she said, tugging him slightly closer. She used her free hand to press the head of his wife downward, and the woman seemed to understand she was meant to move down Cynthia's body. When Cynthia spread her legs, the woman hesitated but a moment before she leaned in to taste. "Good girl," Cynthia encouraged before she took the man's cock in her mouth, and he moaned.

It took very little attention from her lips and tongue for him to relax and let go of his inhibitions and hesitations. With practice and guidance, his wife became better at her own efforts, and Cynthia managed to get him hard enough he was trying to thrust into her mouth.

She was having none of that, and she pulled away from him, using gestures and very little language to rearrange them so he was laying on the bed, his wife balancing on him. This was clearly not the typical position for this couple, and they did not know what to do, but Cynthia knelt over the husband's face. He hesitated, but when she lowered herself onto his mouth, he took the hint and began to eagerly eat her out. His wife took a few gestural cues before she began to move on her husband, and he followed the rhythm she set. Cynthia caressed the woman's breasts, pulling her into a string of lust-hazed kisses.

Before long, the woman and man were enamored with her, and it took hardly any coaxing at all for the wife to guide her husband's cock inside Cynthia. She was pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around the man, impaling herself on him as he thrust up into her, trying to get as deep as possible, swearing in what she still assumed was Italian as his wife watched, spread out on the bed, playing with herself and moaning hungrily as her husband fucked another woman, a much younger woman who couldn't speak a word of their language.

When the husband was spent, trying to recover, Cynthia sat on the woman's face and used her own practiced tongue to reward the woman's efforts to improve. She lost track of how many shattering, screaming orgasms the woman had as her husband watched, and Cynthia took him inside her again when he recovered, his wife lapping at their juncture like a hungry dog, licking both Cynthia and her husband clean when they finished, and bringing Cynthia to another climax with her tongue.

When Cynthia no longer had any strength, she stood, pulled her dress onto her shaking body, kissed both husband and wife with lingering kisses, allowing them to beg for more with their lips before pulling away. She scooped up both her large bill and the change the woman had pulled out, and she went back across the hall without a word.

Rhiannon was waiting for her, smiling.

"Did you have a nice time, darling?" she said, coaxing a shaking Cynthia over. Cynthia balanced on her knee, grinding her sensitive pussy against Rhiannon's cool leg.

"They'll certainly never forget their holiday to Vienna," Cynthia sighed, pulling her dress off again. "They're not enough, though."

"Poor thing," Rhiannon said, tracing her fingers along Cynthia's sensitive breasts. "You've grown so used to those half-day orgies, haven't you? My insatiable Little One. My hungry little nymphomaniac."

Cynthia sighed, nodding as Rhiannon kissed her.

"Go over to the bed," Rhiannon whispered when she pulled away from Cynthia's attempts to deepen the kiss. "If you thank me sweetly, you'll get another tablet."

Cynthia needed absolutely no incentive to make love to Rhiannon with her mouth, but she never argued with an opportunity to have another. She hurried to the bed and laid down, spreading her body out, hoping Rhiannon liked what she saw. As Rhiannon straddled her face, Cynthia did not wait a moment to show her affection, her devotion, her desire, her gratefulness, pouring all her emotions into the pleasure she put forward with her tongue. And the more Rhiannon showed she had learned well, the more Cynthia's skin seemed to flush with excitement and desire.

When Rhiannon removed herself from Cynthia's tongue and replaced the loss with a tablet, all in one smooth motion, Cynthia closed her mouth and her eyes. She let the tablet dissolve on her tongue and let the blur of physical sensation hit her as Rhiannon began to tease her body. She opened her eyes and enjoyed the way the contours of the room melted. Rhiannon said words, but they seemed to echo and blend together. The words did not matter, but the meaning was clear. Without the tablet, she would have been astonished she had any climax left in her, but on the tablet, she felt her body worked up into another climax, and it seemed to spill and blend so that instead of a string of climaxes, Cynthia hit one rapturous high she never seemed to come down from, and she felt radiant.

Eventually she would pass out, but while she retained her blurred consciousness, she gasped and moaned and screamed with delight, knowing the people across the hall could certainly hear. She smiled to herself as she wondered how it would arouse them, and what the sound of her euphoria might lead them to – what wicked sensuality they might commit at the sound of her rapture.

/-/

Laura sat in the sitting room, staring at the fireplace.

"They are still gone, my dear?"

She looked up mildly. The painting of Phineas Nigellus was not especially fond of her at first (likely her Muggle parentage) but he had come to respect her as the mother of his descendants, and he certainly respected Jason and her sons. He was polite with her as a rule, but since Jason's condition became clear, since he left to look for her niece, Phineas Nigellus Black had taken to looking out for her, and was treating her with a great deal of respect.

"Yes," she said dully, rubbing her eyes. "Last I heard from Severus, Jason was in a very poor way."

"They need him."

"Yes, I know," Laura sighed. "And I don't wish anything ill on my niece or her parents. But this is so bad for him."

"It is his duty, my dear," Phineas Nigellus said, almost sternly. "He understands his responsibilities. I have had a front-row seat to the sufferings of this family, you know. And my memory extends back further than even Sirius's."

"How do you mean?" she asked, sitting up straighter. He sighed, shaking his head, but Laura pressed, and he knew she would give him no peace until he answered her questions.

"Orion, Sirius's father, for a start," he said darkly. "I was his confidant, you know. He never felt he had freedom of choice, where your father-in-law attempted to take freedom into his own hands. He had an…unhappy time of things."

"He wasn't happy in marriage?"

"Oh, my dear," Phineas Nigellus sighed. "I know Sirius and Cara think their little war and their sufferings – tragic as they were – meant anything at all. The world they fought to end was so much darker, so much bleaker than anything they ever witnessed, and the history their parents lived was monstrous. Well, just think of how Cara was conceived. And that's just the whispers and sanitized rumors to survive. The truth of the matter is much…much worse than you could possibly imagine."

Laura wanted to press him further, but she knew her place. It sounded as though these were stories not even her husband's parents realized about their families, their childhoods, and the world before the war.

"I just want him home," she said. "Selfish though it might be, I want him home before…."

"Before he loses his mind in a manner that could not be undone?" Phineas Nigellus asked, almost smirking. "No, my dear, selfish though it might be, I don't believe anyone you know would begrudge you a bit of selfishness. But he is stronger than even he realizes. I expect Jason will return to you, if a bit exhausted, far from insane."

She only wished this were a comfort.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia misses her father, Lily begins her fight against disease, and Phineas Nigellus gives us hints about Part 0…**

 **Also, we've passed 100 reviews! Go us!**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think Phineas Nigellus might be suggesting about Orion Black?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Where did Rhiannon get the money? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Rhiannon has no money, and uses no money. Any money the pair uses is either what Cynthia had with her when she went to the club in London, or is money Cynthia has earned along the way from prostituting herself. But this question refers to the tablets – and Rhiannon used absolutely no money to acquire it.**

 **Q: Is the pill Cynthia's taking similar to what Catherine took in Part 2? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: There are definitely more differences than similarities. Imagine Bliss is like MDMA, and the tablet is more like… LSD. They both change the way one processes an experience, but in different ways. They both have the capacity to induce euphoria, but in different ways.**

 **Q: Will Sirius eventually crack and start smoking and drinking? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Erm, I answered the smoking part last chapter, but the drinking as well is a no. Like I said, he's finding healthier ways to process his emotions. He's spent so long clean, he's had to come up with lots of methods over the years, and he's doing something productive. He'll definitely be tempted. But less and less as this goes on.**

 **Q: Will Sirius visit Catherine at some point? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: At some point in the story? Absolutely. But…not without Severus's permission. And I won't say any more than that or spoilers will be everywhere. But yeah, he's not going to pop in without prior authorization.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia willingly go home, or will harry have to track her down? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Whether or not she actually wants to go home, Cynthia will not willingly go home. Harry and the others will absolutely have to track her down, and the longer she runs, they better they are at finding and processing her places in each city, so it takes them less time to search a place – just as she and Rhiannon are moving from place to place faster. This was partly planned, partly me getting impatient as I wrote.**

 **Q: Does Rabastan wish Catherine was his daughter? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Yes and no. Rabastan wishes he'd had Cara as a mistress and that they'd had a daughter who looked just like her (the way Catherine does), but at this point he sees Catherine as damaged by the circumstances other people are responsible for, like Sirius or Ryana. He thinks his daughter with Cara would be wiser, stronger and yet still fragile in that she'd bend to his wishes. She wouldn't have the weakness to substance that comes in the Black blood, she wouldn't have married Harry, and she would never have been led astray by Ryana. She wouldn't have been a target of Sirius's enemies. Etc. Does he want Catherine as she is as his daughter? No. But he wants an idealized version of her as his daughter, looking just like her but with a different history, and a slightly different temperament.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	23. Say You Love Me

**A/N: Here's Bonus Four for the week… and we've barely started!**

 **-C**

' _Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down, and there's not another livin' soul around, then you woo me until the sun comes up, and you say that you love me. – Say You Love Me, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Penny sat with her head in mistress's lap as Mistress spoke into the little disc Penny had long ago learned was not a toy. Master's voice answered, a pleasant change from the Grave One.

"Where are you?" Mistress asked, her voice tired and strained. "You said you were moving again, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we're in Berlin," Master said.

Although it was pleasant to hear his voice, it sounded tired and strained, the way Mistress often sounded these days. Only the Grave One seemed calm and rested, and Penny whined at the thought. She raised her head to nuzzle her nose against Mistress's neck.

"Is that Penny?" Master asked, amused.

Mistress moved her disc and Penny looked at it, seeing Master's face. Could he be in this tiny circle? She pressed her nose against his face, but felt only cool, hard, smooth. Like pressing her nose on the clear barrier between the game room and the water.

Master laughed and Mistress pulled Penny away from the disc, smiling. She kissed Penny's head, just above the eyes.

"How are the dogs?" Master asked.

"Oh, well enough," Mistress answered, stroking Penny's fur. "Sometimes, I find them in the girls' rooms, but I suppose that's only natural. Penny is taking prodigiously good care of me."

"I knew she would," Master said, his voice still tired, but soft and kind. "I miss you both."

/-/

Harry said goodbye to Catherine reluctantly, sitting in a hotel room, near where a man said he'd spotted someone matching Cynthia's description. The man had been vague, unhelpful, but the one string of evidence they had.

Jason entered, and Harry turned over the mirror a few times before pocketing it. Jason was the stick by which the whole expedition measured themselves. If he was well enough for conversation, sane enough to search, settled enough to eat, then everyone was considered in high spirits and in good shape.

But Harry hadn't felt in high spirits or good shape since he lost Cecilia, and all Cynthia's disappearance had done was given him a dozen other things to worry about while he should have been grieving.

"We've got bad news, and Severus thinks we'd better tell you before you figure it out on your own," Jason said, measuring out his medication. Harry waited for the blow, expecting to hear his eldest daughter was dead. "We have no doubt now, Cynthia's been supporting herself on…on sex."

"Excuse me?" Harry said, puzzled.

Not his little girl, surely. Jason had to be confused. Cynthia had never even gone on a date.

But then, a nasty voice in his head reminded him, he never would have fathomed her running away, either.

"It's irrefutable now. Cedric and I questioned the hotel owners at the place we found she was staying. I won't hurt you with details, Harry. Cynthia could be doing things while drugged, or under the influence of someone controlling her, or she could just be desperate. But the owner said more payment always came after she…entertained. And I get the distinct impression he didn't report it because he was hopeful he could blackmail her into…. Well, all sorts in this world, aren't there?"

Harry was trembling, but he said nothing as his brother-in-law downed the potion. Harry had a feeling they'd been to the room, and Jason had felt more of Cynthia's pain and suffering.

"Whatever we do," Harry said softly, "whatever we must do to get her back, nobody tells Cat."

"Agreed," Jason said, his shoulders relaxing and his brow unknitting as the potion kicked in. "Cedric and Mad-Eye are searching for where she might have gone after the hotel. We're not far behind this time, a matter of days. But if she was in Germany when we ran the Muggle search…"

"She could know we're looking," Harry whispered.

Cynthia, and anyone who might be controlling her. She could be clear to Japan by now, if she was truly running, if she was trying to get away from him. His throat tightened and he blinked rapidly. It didn't matter now what she said when he found her, or what he had to do to get her back. Harry could almost feel him standing in the kitchen of his first home with Catherine, driving a knife into Padma Patil's belly.

This was no different, he told himself. He'd kill anyone, destroy anything, to have his daughter back. She was clearly not herself, whatever the cause, and he would pour himself into making her right again, no matter what it cost.

/-/

Rabastan could sense the confusion in Catherine, in both of her realities. She struggled to tell where the dream was, and how to behave within a circumstance if Rabastan failed to make it clear immediately where she was, how he related to her. This confusion was keeping her from relaxing in either place, and he could tell she was not enjoying herself as she should.

Where she was his wife, she couldn't seem to accept the roleplaying, and while he could think of nothing more erotic than playacting as her father as he drove her to unspeakable pleasure, this didn't seem to be something she accepted. Yet. Rabastan was convinced with time and coaxing, she would warm to the suggestions.

And where she was still his niece, she was flustered, and would pause, confused, as she tried to determine how she was supposed to address him. Catherine had yet to snap and accept this as a fantasy she was denying, as he hoped she would, but he could sense she was close, and her hesitation frustrated him immensely.

The sooner the search found Cynthia, the less time he would have to train Catherine the way he wished, and set up an arrangement where she visited in his little-used London home so he could make love to her, solidify this beautiful reality he hoped would never end. And he needed to reach that point before her husband returned, because it was the only hope Rabastan had of her falling in love with him.

And at this point, he needed her to fall in love with him. Nothing less would be acceptable.

She sat on the bench in the library, frowning out the window at the tall, swaying grasses at the edge of the property. Rabastan watched her as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, rubbing her forehead. She was thinking, trying to decide something, and he hesitated. If he interrupted her, he might be interrupting an important realization or decision, or he might be keeping her from thinking too deeply about the incongruous circumstances of her current existence.

In the end, he decided he needed to interrupt her, because it was too dangerous not to interrupt her every so often while she was in reality, lest she hold onto it too tight.

Rabastan told her dinner would be soon, and she frowned, looking around for the clock Rabastan had removed.

"Time?" she asked.

Of course, it wasn't dinner time, and he wasn't about to serve her dinner, but he was about to put her back into a dream state, and anything making the real world seem less real was a positive reinforcement of the facts.

"Quarter to five."

She nodded, glancing out at the sun, puzzled. He asked if she wanted something before dinner, and she said no, she'd be fine. Rabastan decided he'd give her a few minutes to herself before he interrupted her reality again, as frustrating as it was to wait.

He already ached to hold her, already felt desperation to feel her around him.

Rabastan checked the dogs were all in their garage before going back, doing the spell through the door, putting her to sleep, and then instating the dream state, closing the blinds and going into the library to find her blinking, puzzled.

Catherine was fuzzy, trying to decide what was happening and where she was.

"Hello, darling," he said, crossing and leaning down to kiss her. She relaxed into the kiss, as much out of relief at knowing where she was as anything else. "Shall we play?" he whispered against her lips.

It was meant to be a superfluous question. He ached for her, and surely her body would ache for him as well.

"Do we have to?" she asked, her brown eyes wide and regretful as she looked up at him. "Only I'm…quite tired all of a sudden. I think I just want to lie down."

He bit his tongue to hide his frustration. But then, he was demanding quite a lot of her body, in both states. He needed to give her more time for proper sleep, perhaps. He walked her to her bedroom and did a charm when he was on the other side of the door, giving her a few short hours, he decided. Then he would try again.

/-/

Lily sat in Draco's office, waiting as he finished reviewing the request to make the tests mandatory. Both wanted this, and Draco would be able to throw his political weight behind the measure. But it was important not to give his political opponents any reason to poke at holes in the measure.

"Excellent," Draco said, rubbing his eyes. "All excellent. I'll have a few more…discrete eyes read it, just to be certain. Dorcas, perhaps. Granger."

Lily smiled at the way he still called Hermione by her maiden name, all these years after she changed it.

"Have you heard from the search today?" Lily asked. "I know they were going into Germany."

"Berlin, yes," Draco said, scratching the end of his nose briefly. "I know they arrived, and I know they had some trails to consider, but I haven't been given an update since they left Prague, no. How quickly do you think we could set up testing centers in major hospitals and clinics?"

"I could have a center set up at St. Mungo's very quickly," Lily said. "Poppy and I could set one up at Hogwarts within the month, once you enact the measures for Muggle-born children. Can't get them tested without parental consent, but it'll be hard to get, I expect. By June, I believe we could cover all the domestic clinics, and I think apothecaries could be supplied with the testing supplies. Some people prefer it to a Healer."

Draco agreed humming. Then he said, "I suppose helping Whitby set it up would be good for Kitty, too, when we've found Cynthia. I don't know how to explain, but I feel they're close this time. I feel they'll find her soon."

"What is the plan for her schooling?" Lily asked firmly. "Surely it would be too much to ask that she take her NEWTs after this."

"She can have them administered specially," Draco said gently. "When they've found her, Severus and I can consider her well-being, perhaps have you take a stand on the matter. We can decide on the timeline for her recovery, including when she'll be ready to take her exams. If I must do something less than legal, she will get them."

Lily wasn't sure she should have taken as much comfort from that as she did. Perhaps she'd been living in this shady land of extremes for too long, but it no longer bothered her, the idea of breaking the law for someone she loved.

/-/

Jason fought a wave of nausea as he thought of the look on Harry's face when he told him. He wondered how it had felt for Harry, knowing his wife was essentially a prisoner to the drugs and desires of someone else. Was it what he assumed had become of Cynthia?

Jason couldn't be certain what was more frightening – the idea she was being coerced or the idea she might have reached this lifestyle all on her own, as all their evidence suggested. The things he'd heard from the hotel manager, the tales of all-night orgies and trails of men and women flocking to her room, from all over the hotel and from bars and clubs nearby. They entered hungry, and they left hazy and satisfied.

Perhaps it was something about Jason's age, but he had never considered his niece as a sexual being. Even as a child, he'd noticed his sister's innate sensuality, but with Cynthia he'd never thought such a thing. A generational rift, perhaps, which would always have Jason looking at her as the little girl who would crawl into his lap and ask for sweets. Even so long after she'd become a young woman, it took no effort at all to remember what she'd been like as a baby, weeks old, so small in his arms as he held her while Harry frantically tried to find her favorite blanket.

In many ways, Catherine's children had been as dear to him as his own children, and Jason had felt a very real sense of personal loss at the news of Cecilia's death. It took no imagination to know how horrified and pained Harry felt at learning Cynthia was using sex to feed herself, to lodge herself.

And Harry could not feel the pain, not like Jason did. A kind of deep, desperate agony, dense and compact, like it had been pressed hard against the bottom of the jar by something even heavier, for years and years. When he'd touched the wall of the hotel room, it had rushed through Jason's body, shocked his hand, reminded him somewhere, his niece was suffering.

And he continued to fail her, not finding her, not saving her from whatever kind of hell she was stuck in. The one of her partners they'd found had spoken of her with delight and reverence – a regular at a nearby club who was middle-aged, probably married. He spoke of sexual relations with Cynthia as though it were some sort of spiritual experience, and he described the people who had been there to worship her as all kinds of different people – tourists and locals, young and old enough to be her grandparents, male and female….

He couldn't remember how he'd met her, but he thought it had been at the club. He wasn't sure if she'd had someone else living with her, but he certainly didn't think he'd seen any repeat faces from one night to another. And as Jason had feared, the man had confirmed that she was almost certainly high on some drug.

"Whatever it was," the man said, and Cedric translated, "she never shared. Wouldn't have minded some for myself, though. I've never seen someone with such stamina and creativity. She was brilliant sober, of course, but when she'd taken it…. Incredible."

Jason leaned over the toilet bowl, feeling the throbbing headache in his temples and behind his eyes. He vomited violently, unable to hold it in any longer.

/-/

Coreen Prewett watched her elder sister with concern. She'd spoken to several of her teachers about Columbine's deterioration since they'd returned to school, and they'd assured her they would keep an eye on it.

But they didn't understand, Coreen knew. They knew Columbine was suffering from Cynthia's disappearance, and the fact she hadn't told her best friend where she was going or anything. But the deepest reality, the most painful part of the whole thing, was Columbine was in love with Cynthia, privately and secretly, and Coreen realized for the first time it was a secret even from Cynthia.

Coreen couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like, to be in love with someone, to never have told them, and then to have them vanish like smoke without ever having said.

"How's she doing?"

Gareth's voice was distinctive, soft, and melancholy as he leaned toward Coreen. She shrugged, pleased he was concerned about her sister, and not just about his cousin. She knew he felt Cynthia's disappearance with a great amount of personal guilt, but she appreciated he could feel more thoroughly, more broadly than just his own experiences.

He slipped his fingers into hers, lacing them together and squeezing lightly.

Gareth had asked her out about a week before Cecilia's accident, and what with everything happening since, they'd never had the date. It didn't seem right to go on a date when his cousin was missing, while her sister was miserable, while everyone was still grieving Cecilia Potter.

But it felt nice to have his hand in her hand, to feel the warmth of him next to her, steady and strong and giving.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Not well, I should think. She won't open up to me, though. You might get more out of her."

Gareth hummed again, and she was surprised when he moved a bit closer. Coreen rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the smell of his soap.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "This will all be over soon."

"How d'you know?" she asked as his thumb began to caress the back of her hand. His fingers were rough, but the touch was gentle.

"Because it has to be. Nothing lasts forever, good or bad."

She wanted to point out death lasted forever, but she knew it would hurt him if he said it. But then he would almost certainly say death was a kind of closure. And closure was a kind of end.

Coreen closed her eyes, enjoying the steadiness of him as she breathed in his soap and his hand held hers. She could get used to this, she decided, and she wondered why it took them so many years to do this sort of thing. She really wouldn't mind the date, if it was anything resembling this. Wouldn't mind at all.

 **A/N: So, Catherine continues to struggle, Harry reacts poorly to the news, Draco and Lily make public health plans, and life goes on at Hogwarts.**

 **Review Prompt: Anyone want to take a guess how the Rabastan storyline will wrap up?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Is Narcissa ill or did Rabastan do something to make her ill? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Okay, she's definitely ill, and Rabastan didn't do a thing. He just…lucked out. So to speak. The stars aligned for him.**

 **Q: Will the potion affect Jason in the long term? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Like, will there be a cumulative effect on his health? Not really. But he is susceptible to addiction, so he needs to be careful not to allow the medicinal use to spiral. Luckily, there's lots of medicinal minds in his extended family, and he and his wife are practical people with strong willpower. He'll be fine.**

 **Q: How will Harry react to the news his daughter is sleeping with men and women? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Well, this chapter kind of answers this. Not brilliantly, obviously, but considering everything I think he's taken it rather well. He's certainly not mad at her. He sees her as a victim.**

 **Q: Couldn't Rhiannon just use make-up to keep Cynthia covered up so nobody can find her? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: She could, but there are disadvantages to make-up, for sure. Especially as Cynthia's not used to using it. And as they have a way of using up a place, they need to move on anyway.**

 **Q: Will there be any long-term effect to what Rabastan is doing to Catherine? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: There will a long-term effect, to be explored in the next part, but it's not what you might think.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	24. Peace of Mind

**A/N: So…I think y'all have noticed the website's gone wonky. And there are apparently 13 reviews I can't read in full on my email for Part 2 that are NOT showing up online, so you may get that bonus later…whenever the website starts to behave itself again. Until then, we'll focus in on what we can do.**

 **Here's your regular weekly update!**

 **-C**

 _I know you're hoping' to find someone who's gonna give you peace of mind. – Second Hand News, Fleetwood Mac (Lindsey Buckingham)_

Cynthia checked the train ticket again, although she'd already had it checked by the conductor. She wouldn't half-mind staying in Vienna, but she knew someone was looking for her, and Rhiannon had said they couldn't stay put. She slipped the ticket back into her rucksack and closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the windowpane on her skin.

Budapest would be nice enough, she supposed. She'd never been, but she'd heard it was lovely.

The lifestyle was beginning to wear on Cythia's nerves, however. She understood Rhiannon's insistence they run, that they earn their way across the country – infinitely better than stealing, which was the only other option – but Cynthia wanted to settle somewhere. She wanted to find some quiet place and stay there, even if it was a million miles from home, long as she had someone she loved.

But she loved Rhiannon, and this sort of life didn't seem to suit Rhiannon. Cynthia supposed it was more important, more essential, not to be alone than to be settled, especially in these strange countries she didn't know from Madagascar.

"Miss?"

A sweet-sounding voice from the door. A young girl, probably Cynthia's age, maybe a bit older. Very pale blonde hair, sweet blue eyes. Almost like a doll, Cynthia thought. A tiny voice in the back of her head wondered if this doll's tongue was as sweet as the rest of her, but she pushed it from her mind.

"Yes?" Cynthia said, wondering vaguely where Rhiannon had got to.

"There's no one in my compartment and I thought I'd find someone who speaks English," the girl said, smiling slightly. Welsh, Cynthia would have thought, from the accent. "You seem…nonthreatening. If you don't mind the company…?"

"Not at all," Cynthia said, gesturing for the girl to sit beside her, rather than across from her, and the girl did so, her shoulders tight. "Travelling alone?"

"Just to Budapest," the girl said, shrugging. "My fiancé is meeting me there."

"Going somewhere special?"

The girl shrugged again, and said they were going to fly to New Zealand, do some backpacking. The girl didn't seem especially keen on the idea of backpacking, but Cynthia supposed it was none of her business.

Except….

"I suppose your fiancé likes that sort of thing," Cynthia said, almost teasing, as she traced her fingers lazily along the armrest between them. The girl licked her lips and nodded, her eyes being drawn to the motion of Cynthia's fingers. "It's a hard thing, I understand."

"Yes, I suppose it is," the girl said, smiling weakly.

"Hard things are usually easier if one's done something especially pleasant beforehand, I find," Cynthia lied. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done something truly difficult. The girl hummed in mild agreement. "Have you planned anything pleasant in Budapest?"

"No, we're just spending a night in our hotel," the girl said with a small, slightly bitter laugh. "For him, I think this is pleasant."

"Oh, he just hasn't found the right diversions," Cynthia said, her voice teasing. "Perhaps you haven't, either."

"Been to Budapest, have you?" the girl said innocently.

"No, never," Cynthia said, leaning closer. "But I happen to know a thing or two about pleasure."

The girl flushed slightly as Cynthia's fingers traced along her arm, but she didn't move away. A lengthy conversation was necessary to pull the doll out of her shell, about why the fiancé was in Budapest, and when the wedding was, and did the girl – whose name was Karen – have one last guilty wish before she married?

By the time she kissed Karen, the girl was melting into it, her pale skin flushed. No resistance, exactly, but there was some stiffness until Cynthia traced her fingers to Karen's neck, to her collarbone. She let her hands caress Karen through the clothing, and when she began to massage the perky little breasts, Karen kissed her back. It was slow at first, but when Cynthia moved to Karen's lap, it took very little to have Karen panting, eager, hungry. Cynthia raised her shirt to allow Karen at her breast, enjoying the way the doll-like girl seemed to worship the feminine flesh.

Karen and Cynthia enjoyed the privacy of the compartment, and Cynthia whispered a promise of more intimacy and education if she went to the appointed hotel – a place Rhiannon decided on before they left Vienna – and asked for Cate Jones. With or without the fiancé, whichever Karen preferred.

Although Karen had seemed hesitant about the backpacking, Cynthia had a feeling they would come as a pair, and the fiancé would think twice about heading for New Zealand when there was such pleasure to be had in Budapest – at least for a few days.

Soon enough, Cynthia would have to leave for somewhere else, wherever Rhiannon decided. But she knew she'd get another taste of Karen before she left Budapest, and likely many others besides.

/-/

Cara watched Sirius pull on his shoes, and she frowned as she thought of how the years had worn on him. If it were a matter of what she wanted, he wouldn't go back to the school, but she had always thought it was good for him. Especially with their children and grandchildren at the school. He had to be where the action was, and Hogwarts was certainly the center of action in the wizarding world. At least, non-political action.

"When's the last time you heard from the search party?" he asked, his back stiff.

"Yesterday," Cara admitted. Severus had sent her a message, coded. Cynthia was no longer in Berlin, and they believed she'd left Germany, but it was harder to trace exactly. They suspected she'd gone to somewhere in Austria, and were narrowing down the options. "They have a trail."

"But they haven't found her."

"Sirius," Cara said with a sad smile, hearing the bitterness in his voice. "As soon as they find her, you know they'll tell you right away. Promise me you won't insist on crossing the continent to see her right away."

"Depends if it's a weekend or not," he said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but she knew he was quite earnest.

Cara knew she couldn't keep him here, and he likely would drop everything if he could get away with it, but she would remind him of his obligations, of the obligation to his family and their image most of all. No one could know Cynthia wasn't simply ill and unable to return to school. It was the lie they had chosen, a necessary lie for everyone involved, not least Cynthia herself.

"What time d'you think you'll be back tonight?" she asked, sitting up to trace her fingers through his hair. Sirius leaned back into her touch.

"Mmm, probably not staying for dinner at the school, love. I can pick up a curry on the way home, if you'd like."

"How about you come straight home," she said firmly, "and I pick up a curry on my way back from Caro's."

He smiled a bitter smile, but she didn't argue with her. He was keenly aware of the worry James and Cara shared about Sirius's state of mind, and accounting for all his movements. He'd seemed almost brighter lately, and that wasn't how he was supposed to be. She wanted to believe it was genuine, pleasant brightness – but she couldn't dare believe he'd finally found a healthy way of managing his attachment to their children and grandchildren, not after all these years.

It wasn't a practical belief.

"Kiss the children for me, will you?" he said, turning to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Love you, darling."

"I love you, too," she said, putting as much emotion into the words as possible, as she always did. She never wanted those words to sound stiff or rote. They were everything to her. They always had been.

Sirius kissed her on the mouth this time, and she could feel the energy of him, feel his longing and love. She could almost feel his pulse jump beneath her fingers where she rested a hand on his neck, and if neither had anywhere to go, she'd pull him back to bed.

But had classes to teach, and she had to be at Prewett Manor before Caro and Damon had to be at work, so she let him go, making a mental note to pick up curry on the way home.

/-/

Rhiannon explained, when they settled into the hotel room, she wanted to allow Cynthia her privacy as she seduced the beautiful woman on the train, as she would allow privacy when the girl arrived. This made sense to Cynthia, especially when a tablet of whatever it was rested on her tongue, dissolving swiftly and thrusting Cynthia into a wonderful blur of sensation and color.

By the time she came to, she was alone again, and she felt she'd had quite a bit of sex before passing out. The front desk called about an hour after she'd come to, asking if the visitors in the lobby should be given Miss Jones's room number.

"Oh, of course, let them know where to find me. Thank you, sir," she said, feeling a rush of heat through her body as she waited to meet Karen's fiancé, to see more of Karen's body. She poured three glasses of wine and quickly changed into a shorter, fresher dress. When there was a knock at the door, she crossed to it, smiling at the faces, one familiar, one moderately handsome but completely foreign to her.

"Come in, come in, darling," Cynthia said, kissing the fiancé's cheek as he entered, then kissing Karen full on the mouth. The girl stiffened slightly, probably because of the man's presence, but she relaxed and kissed Cynthia back without too much trouble. Cynthia closed the door and gestured to the wine.

"Quite a greeting," the man said almost suspiciously, "for two women who only just met on the train."

"Why's that?" Cynthia asked, letting her hand linger against his as she handed him his wine. His shoulders tightened, but Karen took a large gulp of her wine, perhaps to help her relax.

"Hmm?"

"Is it quite a greeting because we're women?" Cynthia asked. "Or because we've only just met."

"Well…."

He seemed puzzled as he tried to think of the answer, but he took a swift drink of wine to buy time. Cynthia leaned over to kiss Karen again, savoring the way the girl did not hesitate to kiss her back this time. The man's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably as Cynthia pulled back. Karen leaned forward, trying not to let the kiss break, but failing.

"You find that sensual, doing you?" Cynthia said, and although he didn't answer, the shifting he was doing spoke volumes. "So, it can't be because we're women. And I assure you, time is not necessarily a barrier to intimacy. I can only assume it's jealousy."

"Jealousy?" he said, his voice tight and small. He took another quick drink of wine as Cynthia moved closer.

"Yes, jealousy. Don't worry, darling. Karen and I would love you to join the fun. After all, it's why she brought you to meet me, isn't it, Karen?"

The doll-like girl assured him it was, and when Cynthia boldly groped and caressed the girl's breasts through the blouse, Karen arched her back to present them better to her new lover. His eyes widened again and he swallowed visibly. Cynthia, who had yet to sit, straddled his lap, watching him set his wine down and blink up at her, trying to decide what to do with his hands.

"Now, she's going backpacking for you," Cynthia said, taking his limp hands in hers as she traced them from her thighs up her body. He didn't fight, and even took some of the initiative as they came closer to her breasts. "The question is, are you willing to do one little thing for her?"

His posture was still stiff as he tried to make up his mind, and she smiled as he finally leaned up to kiss her, closing his hands around her breasts and giving in to the sensuality of the situation.

/-/

Laura smoothed a comb through her hair and stared at her reflection. She knew she hadn't been sleeping properly. She'd grown so used to having Jason beside her at night, to not have him there was more of a loss than she'd anticipated. Then again, she'd never anticipated it would take this long to find her niece.

Phineas Nigellus had been keeping her company most days, but she was growing a bit sick of him, and she decided to read some letters from her children and respond to them. The clinic was closed for the day, which was always the hardest sort of day. She could always do paperwork, but she never liked getting into a habit of bringing work home with her. She'd seen from others it was a terribly hard habit to break, once begun.

"I've news from Hogwarts," Phineas said, sliding into the portrait across from her desk with a sneer. She'd only just opened a letter from Sinclair, but Laura looked up politely and nodded him on, smoothing the letter in her hands. "The Fat Lady has been gossiping again. One of her charges was seen snogging a certain Hufflepuff."

"Don't speak in riddles, please," she said, trying not to smile. The Hufflepuff or the Gryffindor could be hers, although she thought Saxon was a bit young for snogging.

"Well, I believe the whole thing has been grossly exaggerated, of course," he said with a sniff.

"Of course."

"However, the rumor pertains to Gareth, and one Coreen Peakes."

"Oh, that's lovely," Laura said, glancing down at the letter again. "Coreen's a sweet girl, very sharp. A very good Chaser. And a wonderful family."

Phineas Nigellus said nothing, but she could almost feel him bristling. He couldn't say anything about Coreen's father without insulting Laura, and he never insulted Laura directly. He said nothing as she returned her attention to the letter, and Laura decided she would not confront her son about the relationship.

It might be the wrong choice, but she knew Jason's parents – by and large – had been very forgiving about letting their children do their own thing. She judged Gareth to be a much more level-headed child than many of his cousins, although she would have felt Cynthia was level-headed as well.

She would keep an eye on things, she mused. She would pay attention, write to Rose, perhaps ask her father-in-law to keep eyes on the couple, just to give him something to distract him from the search. It was bound to be healthier than however he was trying to deal with the matter now. And it would avoid Gareth falling into the family tradition of messy choices. Hopefully.

/-/

The night air in Budapest was smooth and cool on Cynthia's face. She sat in the windowsill, missing the widow's walk of Potter Manor, missing the window seats in her dormitory at Hogwarts. She rested her face against the metal holding the window in its opening, thinking how if she just leaned out into the night, she would fall to her death, splattered in the Budapest streets.

She'd be with Cecilia, which would be lovely. Wherever it was people went after death, the sisters would be together. But Cynthia thought of her father, of how much suffering he and her mother and her grandfather would go through, losing them both. Cynthia closed her eyes.

"You'll catch your death in that window, darling."

Rhiannon's voice was cool and disapproving, something she almost never did. Cynthia scrambled down from the window, crossing to where Rhiannon was settling on the bed, raising an eyebrow. Cynthia snapped the window shut sharply, her body still thrumming from the couple who had left not an hour gone. She hadn't heard Rhiannon come in, but then, her mind had been somewhere else. Back in England, she supposed.

She hadn't taken any money from the couple, not even without them noticing. She could have done it easily, while the couple were dozing, not used to so much sexual exertion in such a short space of time. No doubt, neither would have begrudged her a hundred euros or so, for the evening she'd given them. But Cynthia had poured herself a glass of wine and thought of their wedding, their trip to New Zealand, the life they were about to build together.

They needed it more than she did, she decided, and so she took nothing. She showed them out with a kiss for each, telling them to enjoy their trip. And she lamented their togetherness, the way they were committing to an eternity together.

"How long will we have to move so quickly?" she asked Rhiannon, pressing her face against the woman's cool body, stretching out on the bed beside her.

"Long as necessary, Little One."

Those words felt sensible, reasonable. After all, Rhiannon had known exactly what Cynthia needed, everything she needed. She would know what was necessary, surely.

"It's just, I don't like the moving all the time," Cynthia sighed. "I want to stay somewhere, with you. Anywhere is fine."

England would be best, she didn't dare say out loud, because she knew it would be impossible. Whatever life they could build together, Cynthia knew enough of the expectations on her life, it couldn't be built in England.

"We'll see. We'll do what's right for you, Little One. And right now, it's moving. I've some ideas on where to go next."

"We've only just arrived."

"Sleep, darling," Rhiannon said, petting Cynthia's hair. "Don't worry. Just sleep. You must be exhausted after the day you've had."

She was, of course. Cynthia let her eyes grow heavy and rested her face against Rhiannon's breast, relaxing. Things would work out alright, in the end.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia has broken in Budapest, Laura tries to practice good parenting, and Cara tries to keep an eye on Sirius.**

 **Review Prompt: Who would you rather have as parents, Jason and Laura or Caro and Damon?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Was the man [in Berlin] important, or was he just some random person who made Cynthia think about Cecilia? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Erm, more the latter than the former, but I wouldn't say that's not important. Every place she goes, there's something that makes her think of home or her sister, but it's different in each location.**

 **Q: How close are James and Sirius to breaking? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: At the moment, James is a bit closer, because Sirius has found a good outlet. James's main outlet is keeping an eye on Sirius, which is not so much healthy as it is necessary. But I would estimate they could go to the end of the year the way they are, and then not working would recharge their batteries pretty well. So they could go a while, but in what condition? Well, that's a different matter.**

 **Q: Will Catherine start to say no more to Rabastan now? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: She will, but let's say it's…off-camera. There's definitely a normalization going on in the relationship. But it's hard for her to do it in any strong way, because she's still going back and forth on when she's in reality and when she's dreaming. And with Rabastan as her only contact point, she has only his word on the matter.**

 **Q: Why doesn't Catherine feel like mourning the loss of her daughter? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: This is something I've decided I'm going to explore more in Part 4, but Catherine wanted children because it meant so much to her husband to be a father, and because it meant so much to her father to be a grandfather. The dogs were her thing. She's not got a lot of…motherly concern for her children, and part of it is because she wasn't wholly bonded to the idea of being a mother when she became one. She loves her children, but on the same level as she loves her nieces and nephews. Knowing they're hers and feeling they're hers are different things.**

 **Q: Has Harry told Catherine about Cynthia and what she's doing to survive? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: NO. And if all goes well, he doesn't plan to. That's just another layer of unnecessary pain and guilt, both for Catherine and for Sirius, both of whom will surely blame themselves.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	25. A State of Mind

**A/N: Alright, here's Bonus One for the week! May there be many more!**

 **-C**

 _Dreams unwind. Love's a state of mind. – Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Cara had not confessed – not to her husband, not to Lily, not to anyone – the way the whole affair was putting her on edge. Sirius needed to her to be strong, but when he wasn't around, when she was alone in their house, she could feel the anxieties of how her granddaughter was doing, how Catherine was doing, building in her chest.

The melancholy was already building as she unlocked the house, coming home from Prewett Manor, but it was chased away when she heard the clinking of teacups of saucers. Sirius?

She called out, and he said to come to the sitting room, so she did, pulling off her scarf as she went, starting at the sight of someone she hadn't seen in years now – not since Catherine and Harry nearly fell apart.

"Mr. Barker," she said, her voice full of the breathless exhilaration of being caught unawares. "How do you do? I wasn't aware we were entertaining company."

Mr. Barker kissed her hand as Sirius explained they were discussing a few matters for their joint career choice – the History of Magic. This made Cara uneasy, although she couldn't fathom why.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Cara asked, but Mr. Barker declined, claiming a multitude of things requiring his attention, although she wasn't sure why she didn't quite believe him. As it was, she didn't really want him to stay, so she did not try to come up with reasons for him not to go. When he left the cottage, she fixed her husband with a stare, but he was clearing the teacups, asking what she wanted for dinner. He offered up pasta, but Cara closed her eyes, frustrated.

"What was that man doing here?"

"Darling, I told you," Sirius said, although he was a bit irritated. "We were talking about our field. He is one of the premier historians alive today."

"Yes," Cara said calmly, opening her eyes. "Between his guile and your machinations, he certainly is. Don't patronize me, Sirius. What is going on?"

"Cat," Sirius said, sitting beside her, scooping her hands into his. He kissed each hand before he said, "Darling, I love you. I'm not patronizing you. Why is it so hard to believe I would simply be having a conversation with him?"

She said nothing, not wanting to spoil the evening. She could always poke around his correspondence, or pester him during sex. He'd be more likely to be open with her then, and she wouldn't have to wonder how he was keeping things from her. She never kept things from him that weren't for his own good…

But then, he'd likely look at it the same way, and say something about how individuals were meant to have secrets occasionally, and what argument would she have?

Cara said pasta would be lovely, and she watched her husband brighten and hurry to the kitchen, leaving her to deflate slightly in the sitting room and sink into the heaviness of her worries, now compounded.

/-/

Penny sensed a change in Mistress. She could not decide what this change was, good or ill, but something was different in the way Mistress spoke, the way he she carried herself, the way she interacted with the dogs and the Grave One. She took less interest in everything, spent more time around the Grave One, and visited the dogs less often. Penny perked up with every rare visit, hoping the change would reverse itself, and Mistress would be back to normal.

Mistress greeted each dog, coming to Penny last, pressing her face into Penny's gray-speckled fur, a mark of Penny's age.

"Hello, darling," Mistress said.

Lighter, that was how she seemed. As though she'd been carrying a great weight on her shoulders, and now the weight was gone and she could walk taller, behave more…carefree. Penny thought this could be a good sign, a signal Master and Cynthia would return soon, and the Grave One would leave and life would return to normal.

But then, Penny was only a dog.

/-/

Catherine sat with Rabastan in her dream, in the sitting room, staring out at the grounds. He was close to her, very close, but he had not crossed a line. She thought of what Rabastan said in the waking hours, about how this whole dream was probably a manifestation of unfulfilled fantasy. If this was true, she should do something, surely. If she did not fulfill the dreams, they might continue to haunt her, without meaning, without purpose, for the rest of her life.

Even if they kept haunting her, she could manage to bring purpose to them.

"Could you read to me again?" she asked, looking up at him and wondering whether he was thinking anything at all. Did dreams work like that, or were the figures in dreams purely reactionary, behaving according to some blend of illogic and the thoughts her psyche ascribed to them?

She wished she could ask Luna, she mused, and then the thought dissipated.

"Of course, if you wish."

"I would like that," she said, and she went to the library with him. Rabastan found a book on the shelf and settled on the window seat, and she startled him by laying down beside him, resting her head in his lap as he began to read her the story.

Catherine didn't close her eyes, mostly out of fear. If she didn't keep them open, she might wake and lose this rather quiet, contented moment. As he read, his fingers searched for something to do, and eventually they found themselves in her hair, caressing her scalp, petting and smoothing her locks as she shifted to find greater comfort. Catherine lost track of the words quickly, listening instead to the lilt of his voice, smooth and warm and kind as it covered the pages and warmed her ears. The room seemed to grow warmer – her body seemed to grow hotter – as she felt his fingers lingering on her face and ears at each accidental brush, and she felt her resolve slipping.

After all, it was a dream. A nothing. The consequences of her actions were nothing. She could have what she wanted, should have what she wanted in a world of fantasy and dream.

But a tiny voice in the back of her head held her back, and Catherine contented herself with enjoying this one small scene she created.

She fell asleep before he finished his reading, despite her best efforts to remain in the dream.

 _Catherine woke alone in the library, dozing on the window seat, no book in her arms, but a blanket she didn't remember draped over her. Rabastan must have brought it, she mused, and she glanced up to where the clock ought to be, but it wasn't there. The sun was relatively high, and she thought perhaps she would go for a swim. She was tired, but it felt like a good plan._

 _"Ah, you're awake," Rabastan said smoothly as he entered the library with a tray. "I was just going to leave your tea here for you. Sandwiches. Nothing fancy. I was thinking of us getting an early night tonight, if you're interested."_

 _Catherine knew an early night meant he wanted to go to bed, to have sex with her, and lately not a night went by where he wasn't begging to roleplay as her father. Despite growing used to the actions, she had not become used to how degrading and awful it felt, how wrong it seemed to her. She'd never thought of the word perversion before, but it as soon as it flitted across her mind it began nesting there, building in the back of it and telling her no, this wasn't right._

 _"Oh, I don't know," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I've been terribly tired lately. Why don't we wait and see?"_

 _Yes, this would buy her some time to come up with a better excuse, or a logical reason why she didn't want to roleplay, even if sex seemed like a nice idea._

 _"Alright, love," he said kissing her forehead. "Whatever you decide. Enjoy your tea. I'll leave you be."_

 _"Wait," she said, sitting up. He paused, raising his eyebrows, and she felt her cheeks go hot. "Are you…busy now?"_

 _"No," he said, cocking his head slightly in question._

 _"Could…could you read to me? While I eat. If you're not…. If it's not…"_

 _Rabastan kissed her gently and went to the shelf, looking through the books for something suitable as she sat up so she could reach the tray without fear of spilling. She settled her back against his arm and enjoyed her sandwiches as he read her the lovely stories from the book he'd grabbed._

/-/

Rabastan couldn't understand what Catherine's hesitations were, and now she'd grown colder in her dream state as well. She wanted to have some manner of space, he supposed, and it must be difficult for him to be her only solid human companionship, whether waking or in dreams. But it was necessary, and he only hoped they could be further along, closer to his ideal. He'd been so patient for so many years, it was only sensible for it to pay off, now.

Catherine would grow used to things, with time, but what if they didn't have time? What if he had to move more quickly?

Of course, there were other things he could do, other spells he could use, but even if she proved more mentally strong than her mother had been, she had protectors Cara hadn't had in her youth. Severus would notice, and Harry might. Jason's bond with her could cause him to become aware once the mess with Cynthia was resolved. Even if it proved worthwhile in the short term, Rabastan couldn't fathom it would be positive in the long term.

He watched her as she walked the Irish Setter around the house, and he frowned, wondering how he could achieve his results quicker without resorting to more extreme measures. Perhaps it was not possible, but he liked to believe he had some control over the situation. He liked to believe he could coax her along more quickly, if he could only plant the right seeds.

But what seeds? He pressed his face to the glass, wishing the cold panes would cool his frustration. What was there left he hadn't tried?

He supposed he could try a few things when he had her in bed, as her mind seemed more open and receptive when he had her writhing with sexual need. It was simply difficult to keep his own mind focused on her, on what he needed and wanted, rather than the incredible sensation and his own sexual desires.

She pressed her face into the neck of the dog, and he rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, wondering what she said to the dog, wishing he'd had the aptitude to learn how to transform into an animal the way her father and sister had. If he could be a bird or even an insect, something where he could gain better access to her internal world, perhaps he would know how best to proceed, because he felt she must tell those dogs everything, especially the Irish Setter, which seemed to be her most frequent companion.

No, that was more time-consuming and impossible than the other options, and he thought perhaps he ought to raise his level, take a few leaves out of his father's book.

If necessary, he supposed, and done with discretion and discernment, those sort of heavy-handed tactics could produce a great deal of happiness. After all, Rabastan had a very happy childhood, and a rather happy adolescence. It was only when the world conspired against him in young-adulthood, he had to find other ways to amuse himself, other goals and desires and dreams.

He would spend the evening deciding what the particular plan would be, how he would go about giving Catherine the necessary nudge, as the current spell was obviously not enough. She still spent too long speaking to her dogs and her husband, and had not taken the desired plunge in her fantasy world.

Her mind was more resilient than he anticipated, but that would be no concern at all. He had plenty of ways to try, if he only had the time to test them. Something would work.

/-/

Sirius watched his wife sleep and wondered at all the things he lost, all the nights like this he'd given up to be where the action was. He wondered if it was something deficient in him then, that he couldn't be satisfied with spending every possible moment with Cara and the children, and now the grandchildren. Or was there something deficient in him now, that he was hoping never to have to go back to work, when he still had so much vitality.

He brushed a strand of Cara's hair out of her face and smiled to himself. She was no longer young, but when he looked at her in the moonlight, it was the simplest thing in the world to see her as the beautiful young woman he'd fallen in love with, without realizing how fast he was falling. During the war, he'd been happy to spend as much time as possible with her, found it frustrating when he was torn away from her side. How had he become so used to leaving her every fall, not seeing her until Christmas?

He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't seem to sleep. Instead, he cast a quick charm to keep her from worrying, left a note on where he'd be so she wouldn't panic if she did wake, and he went to Grimmauld Place. Laura was awake, and opened the door, puzzled at seeing him.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, smiling weakly. "Figured you might struggle as well, alone in this house."

"Come in," she said urgently. "Do you want some tea or…something?"

"I shouldn't," Sirius said, rubbing his eyes, but she said she had some herbal teas, if he wanted it, and Sirius accepted a cup of peppermint tea and sat across from her.

"What's on your mind, sir?" she said.

Laura had never been fully comfortable calling Sirius by his name or by any familial title. He'd tried just about everything, but "sir" had become the norm, as it was infinitely better than her calling him "professor" for the rest of her life, especially around the grandchildren.

"I suppose I'm just thinking about…priorities," he said, frowning as she poured his tea, and her own. "You know I never meant this to happen to Jason."

"I know," she said gently. "I never thought you did. You forget, sir, I'm a parent now, too. I often feel the weight and fear of getting it right. And while I can't say I have a favorite child, I worry more about Gareth than the other two put together."

"He's a good kid," Sirius said, almost amused there was anything to worry about Gareth over.

"He is," she said, smiling and inclining her head. "Did you know he's seeing someone?"

Sirius's head jerked back and he realized even at the castle, so much happened right in front of his nose he'd missed. Perhaps he would have seen if he weren't in such a mess over Catherine's branch of the family, or perhaps he simply didn't see as much as he thought.

"You approve?"

"Silently," she said with a small smile. "He doesn't know I know. I expect you and your wife turned a blind eye to a fair amount, when we were young."

Sirius laughed, shrugged, and sipped his tea. He supposed Cara had turned a blind eye, where he had simply been blind. Perhaps it was like that now, with Laura and Jason, albeit under different circumstances. Instead of being blind because of whatever had blinded Sirius, Jason was blinded by the chaos and crisis, and his indelible connection to it. Another wave of guilt passed over Sirius, and he wondered if he could ever make things right with his son, for all the damage his desperate devotion to Catherine had caused.

/-/

Penny paced the garage, unable to settle. She knew something smelled wrong on the air, and she could not settle in her usual bed. The pups were curled up together. Pepper was curled up with Sophie. But Penny could not find any sense of calm, and she needed calm to sleep.

She padded across the garage, back and forth. She wanted to get to the house, but she knew she was locked in for the night. Where Master and Mistress usually let the dogs have the run of the place, as they wanted, the Grave One always locked the door. This did not endear him to the dogs.

Penny wondered what to do about the Grave One, as something clearly had to be done. She could hopefully find some way to separate him from Mistress, perhaps find a way to bring Master home so the Grave One would go away. Sooner, better.

Shadow raised his head from his sister's back and snapped his teeth at Penny, alerting her to the impact her pacing was having on his sleep, and Penny decided she could at least lay down, even if her mind couldn't settle for sleep. She crossed to her bed, circling it several times, trying to find the right way to lay in it, but nothing was quite right. Shadow continued to watch until she laid down and rested her head on the side of the bed, not bothering to close her eyes. Shadow lowered his head to Sadie's back again, curling closer to his siblings, closing his eyes.

Penny's mind stilled paced the room, even though she was not in motion, and she continued to puzzle out her options for how to solve her problem.

 **A/N: So, Sirius is restless, Cara is suspicious, Catherine continues to fight her strange circumstances, and Rabastan considers his options.**

 **Review Prompt: If you were one of the dogs, what would you do with this situation?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Was it just an accident that Rhiannon came across Cynthia? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: While Rhiannon was not looking for Cynthia specifically, there was something about Cynthia, in her condition and circumstances while in London, that made her a target, and while it's something still true about Cynthia, it's decreasingly true as the story goes forward. There's a riddle for y'all!**

 **Q: How did Kitty get the mirror? I thought Rabastan took it. (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: YES, sorry, her bedroom door was open, she Summoned it, so wherever he was keeping it, it was accessible. Think Hermione summoning the Horcrux books at the end of book six. Sometimes, dumb luck works.**

 **Q: Did you have all three parts planned out in your head? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: No. At the very beginning, Part 1 was a dream I had. And I had a strong inkling before I finished writing it all that I was doing Part 2, and most of the primary plots for it. It was most of the way through Part 2 when someone asked if I'd do a part three. At first, I thought – no way. BUT, of course, I came up with the idea. Because once it's been suggested, I can't help myself. When I got to about this point, I realized I knew what I wanted to do for either a Part 4 or a Part 0. It wasn't until I started prewriting Part 0 that I realized I had to do both for the series to have a complete cycle, beginning to end. Part 4 WILL be the end of complete stories, but I'd happily do a Oneshot past it if request.**

 **Q: Does Rhiannon love Cynthia, or is she just using her? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Rhiannon is not actually, strictly, capable of an emotion like love, and yes there is use. But Rhiannon would see it more as a symbiotic than a parasitic relationship. I can't say that it's easy for others to see it that way, but I think it would be easier for Cynthia, when all's said and done. For all she gets out of the relationship, Rhiannon does feel she's helping Cynthia, and in one way she is. It's the other ways that are causing the problems.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	26. Weaker Every Day

**A/N: Here's Bonus Two for the week! Happy Mother's Day to all the mum's out there!**

 **-C**

 _Hope you're going to stay away, 'cause I'm getting weaker, weaker every day. I guess I'm not as strong as I used to be, and if you use me again, it'll be the end of me. – Say You Love Me, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Catherine listened to Rabastan – this time her uncle – as he asked her which book she wished for him to read, which was becoming their pattern, both in the dream and in reality. Here in the dream, it hardly mattered what he read, as the story or content rarely corresponded with the book he pulled off the shelf, and she told him she didn't mind.

She rested with her head on his lap again, feeling his fingers tracing through her hair, not daring to close her eyes.

She liked the dreams better than reality, she thought. Even if she did decide to play out the fantasy, she would be in control, and one thing Catherine had learned since her youth was being in control of a situation had its charms. She was almost shy of being out of it, even when she was safest, because of what she had allowed to happen to the people she cared most about when she'd last sought a lack of control.

In the dream, she was in charge of everything. If she didn't want something, it was nothing to tell Rabastan she was going to do or eat something else. Everything he did was centered around her. In reality, even the way Rabastan focused on her was somehow about him, or at least that was how it seemed to Catherine when she stopped to examine the nature of her marriage.

Her head began to throb as she tried to understand, to recall, to parse. This headache frustrated her, especially as she didn't think she could rid herself of it within a dream, and she thought perhaps she'd gone too long without giving in to the fantasy. Perhaps there was something inevitable about dreaming.

She sat up as Rabastan was reading, and he paused, confused. He seemed to think she might be trying to find a more comfortable position, but instead she touched his face. It was warm, seemingly identical to the face she knew in the waking world. It felt the same, which was sensible. He was a figment of her subconscious mind, after all. He asked if everything was alright, and she pressed her lips to his.

At first, he was stunned, stiff against her gentle kiss. Rabastan hesitated, trying to pull away, but when her lips simply followed his, when her fingers began to caress his jaw to coax him closer, his body began to relax slowly – but perhaps quicker than such a thing would have happened if this were reality – and he leaned into the kiss, parting his lips slightly against hers. He was kissing her back.

Her body seemed to thrill with fear and excitement that this was happening, that it happened so simply. Of course, a kiss was a small thing in the scheme of things, but it seemed to Catherine something substantial had shifted in the dream, that something very serious had happened.

She allowed him to pull away from the kiss and his eyebrows raised slightly as his eyes searched her face for answers, settling on her lips.

"What was that for?" he asked, with a forced levity and amusement in his voice. She could hear the heat, the gravelly nature he was attempting to hide.

He was attracted, aroused.

"Does it matter?" she asked, not quite sure where the words had come from, but knowing they were the right words. A small voice in the back of her head told her to kiss him again, that it was the only sensible thing to do.

It did seem sensible, as this was meant to be the fulfillment of a fantasy, so she leaned in and kissed him again. This time, Rabastan did not hesitate, but he returned the kiss with eagerness, with fervor. His hands seemed to be deciding what to do, where to go, but he let the book tumble to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Catherine thought vaguely it should feel different, this sort of thing. She only felt numb about it, but in the dream, she was supposed to have been alone for some time, her husband away. Perhaps the numbness was because it wasn't real.

That little voice in her head told her to sit on his lap, and it was really only a small shift, so Catherine obliged the voice, thinking it was really quite a sensible thing to do, making things easier for everyone.

This small shift in the way they interacted caused a pause from Rabastan, but she could feel his bulge against her thigh and she knew he was enjoying the forwardness. A horrible sensation in her chest reminded her not only was he her uncle – not entirely acceptable, but forgivable in her world – but they were both married, both with children….

She almost pulled away, but the voice in her head suggested she move his hands to where she wanted them. Catherine teetered, not certain what to do. She was torn between the curiosity of the fantasy and her repulsion. She was torn between the physical desire she was experiencing and the numbness it fueled, torn between the voice in her head and the freezing in her chest. What did she do?

Catherine continued the kiss, opening her mouth slightly to suck lightly on his bottom lip, and he groaned into her mouth. That groan seemed to unknit some of her fears, and she gave in to the voice for the moment, taking his hands, which had yet to puzzle out what to do, and moving them to her body, tracing them up from the waist to her breasts. When she let go of his hands, he hesitated only a moment.

/-/

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as they paced the hotel room his little girl had stayed at while in Vienna. She wasn't here, hadn't been here in days, but Jason could feel her in the room again, and there was more evidence of her using sex to pay her way.

"We're getting closer behind her," Cedric said softly as Severus and Mad-Eye Moody examined the room for more magical signatures. "That's got to be a good sign."

Part of Harry was pleased they were getting closer, but the fact she was moving more and more frequently couldn't be helpful. Yes, they might be fewer days behind, but how many cities? If she kept on this pattern of increased speed, she could be in Russia by now. Or Africa. He couldn't tell exactly where she was headed.

"It's fainter," Mad-Eye growled. "Couldn't begin to say what it means, but the signature is smaller."

"The pain is still there," Jason said, rubbing the back of his own neck listlessly, sitting on the bed. "But…I think it's fainter. Could be because she wasn't here as long."

"Scorpius says he's working on a theory," Cedric said. "He's gone back to Amsterdam to check on a rumor he heard in Berlin, something he thought could explain the signature. Said to keep him posted and he'll meet us wherever we are when he gets a chance, and if we need to report back to England until then, I can always get a short-notice portkey without too much suspicion."

Harry had half a mind to send Cedric back now, to have him check in on Catherine, who still seemed to struggle getting enough sleep. Rabastan and Severus had agreed the risks of giving her something to induce sleep were much worse than the risks of her losing a bit of sleep in the short-term, but Harry wasn't convinced. As anxious and worried as he was for his daughter, he was convinced something was wrong with his wife. Something he couldn't put his finger on, and something Jason was unable to sense with his focus tied up on Cynthia. For a little while, he thought it would be enough to wait until they found Cynthia to decide what was going on with Catherine, but the longer the search raged on, the less certain he was about this method.

"Here's something," Severus said.

The man was on his belly by the air conditioning unit, and he used his wand to pull out a small, white disc. It looked like chalk, small and crumbly, and Severus crushed it, doing a few spells to determine what it was.

"Well, it's certainly magical in origin," Severus said, his expression darkening. "Not something I've seen the like of in Britain, but it's conceivable it has been in use on the continent."

"We can check," Cedric said. "What is it?"

Severus looked up at Harry, hesitating, before he said, "It's a drug. Some sort of…psychedelic, hallucinogenic stimulant.

Harry's stomach seemed to drop to his toes and he turned away from the other men in the room, struggling to breathe. He couldn't go through this again. Not after everything he'd done for his wife.

Jason put a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry tore away, hurrying to the attached toilet to vomit.

/-/

Cynthia raised her head and blinked at Rhiannon, who was laying out some easily-made pasta and a glass of wine. Cynthia saw Rhiannon place a tablet in the wine, and while she felt her body race with excitement at the thought, she was exhausted. She wasn't sure exactly how many hours she'd been engaged in sexual activities the night before, but it was certainly far more than she usually spent sleeping. She ached, and she was exhausted, and even the idea of walking over to the pasta seemed too much.

"Are you coming here, darling," Rhiannon said, amused, "or do I have to come to you?"

With a sigh, Cynthia sat up slightly and said, "I think the food's going to have to come to me today."

"The wine stays here," Rhiannon said pointedly. "If you can't cross the room, you can't have it."

That was more than fine with Cynthia, who didn't bother saying so. She just nodded, accepting her food gratefully, kissing Rhiannon's jaw before picking up her fork.

"I never get to cook for you," Cynthia said, trying to recall what Rhiannon liked to eat. She couldn't remember seeing her eat anything, and assumed Rhiannon ate when Cynthia was sleeping, or when she was giving her space for…business.

"As charming as the notion is, darling, let me earn my keep," Rhiannon said with a wink, and Cynthia said nothing. She supposed there was a certain balance in Rhiannon taking care of Cynthia while Cynthia made their living. Sort of how her father waited on her mother while her mother spent the days running an apothecary business.

She felt a stab of nostalgia as she thought of her mother's birthday, when Cynthia was a little girl. Her father helped Cecilia make breakfast, while Cynthia stayed in bed with her mother, brushing her mother's long, silky hair, trying to plait it, taking verbal pointers from her mother on how to do a proper plait. When breakfast came in, such a proud look on Cecilia's face, Cynthia's father helped with the plaiting, as he was something of an expert.

"Cate?"

For a moment, Cynthia forgot that was her name now, and she didn't answer until Rhiannon snapped her fingers a few times, waving her hand in front of Cynthia's face. With a start, Cynthia raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry," Cynthia said with a laugh. "I was just…thinking of…breakfast."

Rhiannon raised a questioning brow, and seemed to understand that Cynthia wasn't simply thinking about breakfast foods, but of a particular breakfast somewhere in her past, something dragging her into memories again.

Cynthia wasn't half surprised when Rhiannon stood and brought the wine over to Cynthia, obviously thinking the tablet would help. As much as the tablet had helped in past, Cynthia wasn't so sure she wanted the wine at present. She wasn't sure if it was day or night, wasn't sure if the glass of wine was what she really wanted. She wanted to wrap her arms around her mother, to tangle her fingers in her mother's long, beautiful hair. She wanted to be part of her family again, even if it would never be whole.

But how could she ever go back?

After only a brief hesitation, Cynthia took a few sips, then a few healthy gulps, of the wine. She continued to eat, well aware of her hunger, but the more of the wine she consumed, the more of it she wanted, and by the time she finished the wine, she wasn't sure she'd even half-finished the pasta. Cynthia laid back on the bed, taking deep, regular breaths, the past seeming to melt away from her. The future melted away, too, and all the possibilities were meaningless. She only felt the present, enjoying the sensation of the warm duvet around her under-dressed body. She inhaled deeply, and heard Rhiannon say something, but her mind couldn't hold onto whatever the words were. Perhaps the specific words were not important.

Something was lifted away from her, but Cynthia didn't worry about it. She saw Rhiannon's face, shining and perfect above her, and she seemed to feel her everywhere at once. A moan – probably from Cynthia's lips – escaped into the swirling room around her, and it seemed to echo deliciously. She could taste the wine on her tongue, could taste something slightly salty, and she felt Rhiannon's cool fingers slip between her legs, teasing her. Rhiannon whispered something, but the words were not important. The meaning could be discerned from the tone of voice, and the way the fingers worked.

Cynthia closed her eyes, desperate to only feel. She let her legs spread as wide as they would go, and somehow she felt Rhiannon lowering over her face. Cynthia's tongue was out of her mouth as fast as she could imagine it moving, and she eagerly lapped at her lover. All her own pleasure compounded with knowing that with the taste of her lover, she was bringing her lover pleasure. She didn't hear anything but a steady stream of whisperings from Rhiannon, and that was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was perfect.

Cynthia felt her body writhe with delicious agony, although she couldn't be sure how long, or how many times. Her already exhausted body was drawn from orgasm to orgasm, until the exhaustion could no longer be staved off by the dissolved tablet and the wine kicked in to conspire against her. She closed her eyes again, feeling the coolness of Rhiannon's body curl up against her, knowing Rhiannon would not be against her when she woke, and she rolled over, burying her face in Rhiannon's hair. It was cool and soft, and she thought it wasn't quite right.

But that didn't matter. It was beautiful.

/-/

Severus watched Cedric rub his eyes, and he knew something had to be done. Jason was a crumbling mess, Harry was retreating back into himself in pain and despair, and accounts from Cara said Sirius was behaving strangely.

But something was wrong beyond that, something that had Severus particularly concerned.

Catherine didn't seem quite herself, even to Harry, and yet Rabastan said it was a simple matter of her not sleeping quite well.

Severus had known Catherine all her life, having been present at Grimmauld Place for her birth at Cara's request, having been contracted to her for what now seemed like such a brief time, having been present for the births of both her children, and having personally overseen her health for many years, now. Since her detox in France.

If Harry saw something wrong, if Jason couldn't tell, Severus was willing to believe something was wrong.

"Soon, you're going to have to return to England," Severus said pointedly to Cedric Diggory.

"Even if we haven't found her?" Cedric asked softly.

Severus hummed and nodded, but he didn't want it to be that way. Cedric was endlessly helpful, and he wanted to be able to find Cynthia first.

"Even if it's a brief visit," Severus said softly, thinking of the way a young Catherine had trembled in his arms in Marseille, convinced her husband and father could never forgive what she'd done, what she'd dragged Harry into. She'd grown so much since then, but in essence…. Such things never truly ended, and she had yet to forgive herself. "Just to report to Draco and pay Potter Manor a…surprise visit."

"What would I be looking for?" Cedric asked, raising his eyebrow pointedly.

Severus hummed, wondering what indeed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Anything not quite right. Use your discretion. I doubt she would get away with potions or pills right under Rabastan's nose, especially as he insists he prepares all her beverages and meals. But anything that feels…not quite right. If things truly do seem that she's just tired, then we will continue to search without concern. But if something is truly wrong, even if you don't know what it is…"

"Then what?" Cedric asked.

Severus rubbed his brow and said, "Then you bring it to me, directly to me, and I check in on her. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve and know both her and Rabastan better than you do. But you will cause less suspicion, and will not be perceived as a threat if something is wrong."

"What do you suspect?"

"Nothing at all," Severus admitted. "To suspect is to close one's eyes to possibilities, Cedric, and one thing I have learned from my years dealing with the Black family is everything and anything is possible. Catherine, in particular, has her way of ending up in all manner of messes. Best not to go in with expectations."

Cedric agreed he would go at the weekend, regardless of what they'd found during the week. And Severus felt anxiety for the first time in years.

 **A/N: So, Catherine feels drawn to take action in the dream, Cynthia is down, and Severus begins to feel uneasy about matters at home even as concerns crop up going forward.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think Cedric will find?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan use darker methods to get Catherine to do stuff? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: As of this chapter, he has. That little voice in her head urging her this way and that? That should be very familiar to HP fans.**

 **Q: Will we hear from Rabastan's wife at some point? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Absolutely! Delia will be a key figure in the wind-down of this story. I also have some plans for her in Part 4. She can be a bit vacuous, but hopefully we have a tad of sympathy for her, now.**

 **Q: Do the dogs not like Rabastan because they know he's up to something? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Dogs have a very good sense of people. They didn't like him before he was up to something, but now they're even more wary of him because they associate him with the negative changes in Catherine.**

 **Q: Is it only Penny who doesn't like Rabastan, or is it all the dogs? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: It's definitely not just Penny, but she's the dog that's closest to Catherine, and is sort of the leader of the other dogs, the mama figure. So, her POV is more interesting. I had a brief foray into Shadow's POV a little while back. But I spend more time in Penny's head than the other dogs.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	27. Sentimental

**A/N: Well, in the midst of family chaos, I come to you with another weekly update! Glad I've prewritten this, because geez, I've had one hell of a week. Anyway, I've started pre-writing on both Part 0 and Part 4! So exciting.**

 **-C**

 _You are here and warm, but I could look away and you'd be gone. – Sentimental Lady, Fleetwood Mac (Robert Welch)_

James watched with amusement from a corner of the corridor as Gareth and Coreen crossed the Charms corridor together. He supposed they were going to meet Kenrick and Doria for lunch, but they were spending more and more time alone together, and he smiled to himself as Gareth lifted Coreen's fingers to his lips – a gesture he'd no doubt seen his father do a dozen times over with his mother every time he went home.

There was something healing about being at Hogwarts. No matter how painful it was every time he looked at the lake and remembered his granddaughter's funeral, there were beautiful moments and wonderful memories around every corner to act as a balm for his experiences with the search for Cynthia.

"They're lovely, aren't they?"

Rose Lestrange's small voice over his shoulder caused James to start, and then he smiled, turning to the Potions teacher, grinning as she beamed up at him.

"How long have you known?" he asked her.

"Oh, about as long as they have," she said with a shrug. "Laura wrote to me when Phineas Nigellus told her the gossip. I'd already heard from my children and nieces and nephews. She told Doria when Gareth asked her on a date, and they still hadn't gone on it because of the funeral and everything. I think they plan to spend the day together when the next Hogsmeade weekend comes up."

James nodded, thinking of his first date with Lily – the sweetshop, Zonko's, taking her to buy quills and parchment, knowing it was as close to books as he could stand. She'd loved it, and he'd loved being around her.

"It's quite an age," James said with a grin. "Did you and Brontes go on a date around that age? I don't remember."

"We didn't date," Rose said with a small smile. "We courted. Huge difference."

James laughed and nodded as the duo in question disappeared from his line of vision, rounding a corner at the end of the courtyard. He envied their ability to heal, their youthful exuberance and the openness of their futures. He and Lily had endless happiness available to them, but he would never stop worrying about Harry and Catherine, nor Cynthia, regardless of how and when they found her. And he would never stop regretting what might have been with poor Cecilia.

"Colly's been a mess," Rose said, raising her eyebrows and lowering her voice. "I hope you're keeping an eye on her."

"I am," James said with a nod. "And Remus is, as well. Only so much we can do, as she's technically eating, following all rules, turning in her work."

Rose hummed, but it was good to know there were many eyes on Columbine Peakes. There was a large gap in the girl's life, between Gareth getting a girlfriend and Cynthia's disappearance. And James knew some things just could not be dealt with in any simple way.

/-/

Rome was like a change in weather, but instead of the air growing warmer, Cynthia felt the world around her growing colder. It wasn't yet spring, but she sensed it was on the horizon, in a sense. Or perhaps a second winter.

Rhiannon didn't speak any differently, didn't act any differently, but it seemed to Cynthia that she spent more time away, giving Cynthia more space, allowing Cynthia more time for…work. Cynthia even had to make dinner for herself once.

Of course, whenever she approached any kind of conversation about plans or the future with Rhiannon, the conversation was as it had been for many cities, now. The only thing telling Cynthia something was even a little bit different was Rhiannon had yet to begin discussing where they were going after Rome. Hadn't even mentioned cities in the picture.

Cynthia sat on the balcony, her legs tucked under her. The breeze was cool, but it felt icy against her skin. Rhiannon was out, perhaps getting more food, perhaps something else. She wanted to believe it was only her imagination, her insecurities causing her to worry, but Cynthia knew that was a conceit. She'd always been level-headed, something her family and friends had told her many times, something her teachers told her made her a wonderful Head Girl.

She closed her eyes, thinking of her uniform, her robes with her badge. She thought of Columbine, the flighty one, her closest friend. She thought of Cecilia, but without the stab of pain she'd felt every time before.

It wasn't her fault, she realized, for the very first time since she heard of Cecilia's death. She had done nothing outside the usual way. She left for a treat for her being a responsible, talented, level-headed student. And Cecilia was simply going to class. If Cynthia had been at the castle, it wouldn't have made a difference. Cynthia would have been at Gryffindor Tower, the whole school away from where the accident happened. She wouldn't have been able to stop the accident, wouldn't have been able to save her.

She closed her eyes and thought of Columbine, thinking of the club they'd gone to about three weeks before the funeral, before anything in their world had collapsed. Gareth had been in the hospital wing from the wizard flu, and the girls had gone alone. Cynthia had loved the club, and loved more dancing with her best friend to the chirpy Muggle music, wrapping her arms around Columbine and feeling the energy pulsing between their bodies. It hadn't been innocent – that wasn't the right word – but there was something missing from all her encounters since she went to that London club that had been present when she was with Columbine. She felt an urge to be back in the dormitory, wrapping her body around Columbine's, curling up on one of their beds, feeling that energy pulsating between them as the rest of the world melted away.

Not because of the tablet, but because of a kind of intimacy that was all-consuming, a perfect understanding of the other person. She wondered if Columbine missed her, and she wondered why she hadn't bothered to call on her best friend when she went to London in the first place. The whole of the journey would have been better, easier, if they'd been together. If Rhiannon had been helping them, teaching them both. To have Columbine's warm body along with Rhiannon's cool one – a kind of juxtaposition of sensation that seemed pleasant and perfect.

"Come inside, Little One," Rhiannon's voice said, amused. Cynthia wondered at not hearing the door, but she ignored it. Rhiannon was very quiet. "It's time for your lunch."

Was it? Cynthia glanced across to a café and saw some people eating, but she couldn't see the food. It was impossible to tell what time it was, and her body wasn't on normal time, anymore, anyway. It had nothing to do with how far from home she was, and everything to do with her irregular hours.

"Will we ever go back to England?" Cynthia asked, coming inside and closing the doors that led out to the balcony.

Rhiannon hesitated before pouring some tea.

This wasn't something Cynthia had said for a very long time, and she knew Rhiannon was trying to decide how Cynthia meant the question. For a long time, there was a long and heavy pause, and then Rhiannon said, "We'll think about that later, Little One. Right now, we're thinking of your lunch."

Cynthia didn't argue, sitting down to her sandwich, enjoying the flavors, not noticing that for the first time in a very, very long time, she was properly tasting her food, not just eating it. She enjoyed her cup of tea – truly enjoyed it – and she said she was going to take a night off work. Rhiannon didn't argue, but she gave Cynthia a thoughtful look.

When they curled up together in the bed, Rhiannon was attentive, as was Cynthia, but something inexplicable had changed. Cynthia didn't think about what it might be, and if she had tried she would have come up with nothing. But something had shifted in Rome, and whether it was a change in the weather or a change in Cynthia, something was indeed different. Whatever it was, it meant something profound Cynthia had yet to unlock.

She couldn't be certain, and she didn't want to attribute any serious thought to her post-coital state, but as she rested her tired body against Rhiannon, wondering if she'd be there when Cynthia woke, Cynthia supposed the change could be something like healing. Something like it, of course, because she wasn't sure anyone truly healed from such things, but they had to get a little bit better, over time.

Cynthia closed her eyes, and slowly the coolness of Rhiannon's body beside her seemed to melt away into a sleepy warmth, as though all she had was the duvet. Perhaps it was all she had.

/-/

Lily visited Narcissa, who was stronger, but it was a false strength. She would have months, perhaps a year of this, and then she would slowly and steadily deteriorate. Lily supposed if they were truly lucky, deterioration would last about five years. With advances in Healing, she might be able to squeeze out ten years. But it was just a question of timing.

"Astoria?" Narcissa asked softly, aware her daughter-in-law was somewhere in the Manor, and therefore might overhear the conversation.

Lily did a quick charm on the door for privacy before she said, "Honestly, it's impossible to say at this point. It's still dormant in her. It could be three days, could be twenty years. No way to tell until the virus switches on. I'm looking for ways to root out the dormant virus, although it's very difficult to get rid of something asleep in the body."

"Well, there is one positive thing," Narcissa said, pouring them both more tea. "It's a very slow-moving virus. I sincerely doubt there's any hope for me, but by the time Astoria's virus kicks in, it's possible you will have made very real progress in dealing with the active disease. Still no Cynthia? I'm terribly out of the loop."

"No, they're still in Vienna," Lily said, accepting her tea with thanks. "I think they're trying to figure out exactly what's happening with her. You know, the video suggests she's alone, but the magical signature they keep finding suggests she's not. Your grandson had some ideas, and they're trying to work it out while they look for her."

"Of course," Narcissa said earnestly. "It's terribly important to know what one is facing before one arrives. It would be an awful thing to expect her to be alone and find she isn't. Do you think she's being coerced?"

Lily sighed.

She really couldn't be sure. Cynthia had always been such a sensible child, but even sensible children had their breaking points, and she'd gone through such a terrible thing.

"I want to believe she's alone because it means it will be easier to bring her home, less messy," Lily said slowly. "On the other hand…."

"It's easier to have someone to blame," Narcissa said with a nod. "Yes, I quite understand. It was a terrible thing, caring for Catherine. Harry as well, you know, but he was in much better shape. He'd already begun self-detoxing by the time we had them sequestered in France. Catherine was…. But we could blame someone, and that made it easier. Of course, she still blamed herself."

"Yes," Lily said, smiling bitterly. "Her father's daughter. You know, he blames himself for Cynthia's disappearance, still."

"Of course he does," Narcissa said, snorting. "World has to revolve around my cousin, doesn't it? He wouldn't know what to do if it suddenly stopped. On the other hand, I do see his point, but I don't blame him. I blame Uncle Orion."

"Oh?" Lily said, raising her eyebrows, puzzled. She didn't know much about Sirius's family, except that he'd had a terrible childhood, and a few things about his brother from school and the war. "What on earth do you blame him for?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and said softly, "A coward with a Gryffindor for a son? I suppose it was always going to be the way it was. In our world, Lily, in the world Sirius and I grew up in, one followed the path set out or we left, with sometimes quite extreme consequences. And Uncle Orion was in Sirius's position – family heir. I don't know the whole story, but between him and Uncle Alphard, and I believe Rabastan's father…. Well, one follows the path laid out or one leaves. And he was too afraid to leave. Too afraid to help Sirius stay. And look at what we all became. I don't know if I admire or pity Cynthia, but she's left, the way Sirius did. But it's a different world, now. And I don't know what she's running from. But somehow, I just know it's Uncle Orion's fault."

/-/

Cynthia stretched, unsurprised to find Rhiannon was not beside her in the bed. Rhiannon often didn't sleep as long as Cynthia – no doubt not growing as tired, with her more typical hours and exertions. Cynthia rolled over, her eyes searching the hotel room for her lover, but no sign of her.

Getting food, Cynthia supposed, resting her head on the pillow. She had a small urge to dress, gather her things, catch a train back to France. It wouldn't be going home, but it would be a step. She wasn't sure she could go home, certainly not for a while.

But Cynthia didn't want to leave Rhiannon, and she knew she'd be back soon. She couldn't imagine what sort of feelings it would cause for Rhiannon, to return to the hotel room and find it empty, find Cynthia gone.

No, she wouldn't do that. It wasn't the right thing, not the sensible thing to do. And Cynthia thought, almost bitterly, she was always the sensible, reasonable one.

She climbed out of bed and pulled a dressing gown around her naked body, stretching her used muscles and combing her fingers lazily through her dark hair before she went back out to the balcony. The sky was overcast, and she thought it was probably morning. She wasn't sure what time it had been when she and Rhiannon went to sleep, but it was morning now, and she rested her face against the back of the chair, curling in a contorted position, resting her foot on the seat of the other chair as she watched the cars and scooters pass.

What were the lives of those people like, she wondered, as they hurried from place to place, but knowing their destination? Did they have an end goal, or were they too focused on the pieces to see the bigger picture, the larger puzzle? Aunt Caroline always challenged Cynthia's grandfather to puzzles, liked to watch him fail. He couldn't see a small piece and determine where it fit into the larger picture, not the way Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jason could always do. A deficiency, Cynthia had always thought.

But perhaps there was something enviable about not needing to see a larger picture. It allowed a freedom Cynthia did not feel in her life as it was, a flexibility she had never imagined for her life. What if life was not a larger picture at all, but a string of smaller moments that sometimes made a picture if one squinted hard enough and turned their head just the right way? What if the key to happiness wasn't finding the right picture, but in enjoying each smaller moment as it happened, not worrying about what sort of picture they were making?

Not the sort of story her mother's family would have told, but her father's family, particularly her grandfather…. And no one was happier than Professor Potter, no one Cynthia had ever met. He simply enjoyed his job, enjoyed his wife, enjoyed his son and his grandchildren. He had fun with his friends and had fun watching Quidditch, and had fun playing jokes on whomever he could get away with pranking. Childlike, Cynthia had thought, but perhaps there was a wisdom in it everybody else missed.

Because he was happy, truly happy, and Cynthia realized in letting go over the bigger picture and chasing after things she enjoyed, things that felt good and were fun, she was sitting on a balcony in Rome, and she felt something the closest to happiness she had felt since she was a child – truly, deeply happy.

Perhaps she was finally starting to see the right way to live, the right way to be. Not necessarily running from city to city, or selling her body for her food and lodging, but this being with a woman who brought her fulfillment, this focusing only on what was making her happy, this was so much better than thinking about image and the picture she was presenting to the world. It was better than the Head Girl badge, better than trying not to cry at her sister's funeral, better than the face she'd learned to wear at public functions because the photographers always wanted pictures of her family.

She wanted to live for her – not for the massive weight of her mother's family name, and even a bit of weight from her father's family name. She wasn't a Black, she realized, but a Potter. The matter of surname had previously been something for forms and roll call at school, but now it seemed to be a deep, internal decision, and she was realizing that she was not like her mother. Or…she didn't want to be quite like her mother. She wanted to be her father, wanted to be like his father. She wanted to be happy, whatever she decided it meant.

And she smiled, a genuine, weightless smile.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia is going through an evolution, James takes a break from worry to appreciate that life goes on, and Narcissa and Lily have a heart-to-heart setting up Parts 0 and 4. Can I just say I LOVE Narcissa?**

 **Review Prompt: What's up with Cynthia? Is this a positive thing, or is it ultimately more damaging?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Why is Snape so committed? Is it out of loyalty, or because he still loves Lily? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Okay, but this section in this universe, Snape has ceased to be in love with Lily for a long, long time. Because of his work with Sirius during the war, and because she didn't die they've had decades to just become friends. His feelings tend in a different direction. As for his commitment to helping Cynthia, he developed a fondness for Catherine when she was a child, and while he cares about Cynthia, Catherine is the main reason he's doing anything that he does. Both Rabastan and Severus look on Catherine, in their different ways, as if she were their own daughter. The irony is, Severus is the one who was actually engaged to her, but he would never dream of treating her in any sexual way. You can imagine, when all's said and done, how he's going to feel when he knows. If he knows.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia have withdrawals when she stops taking the pill? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Okay, so with drugs of this nature, withdrawals, as in chemical dependence, isn't quite the right term. Essentially, one feels so different, so good on the tablet (similar to Bliss in this way) that it gives sensation that can't be achieved without it. Unlike her mother, though, while she enjoys the drug, Cynthia doesn't feel that compulsion to keep taking it. There's a reason for that, and it has to do with Rhiannon. She'll be down, for sure, but it won't all be for the tablet, and I wouldn't call it withdrawals.**

 **Q: Will Sirius try and visit Catherine? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: He'll certainly want to, but even Sirius is one to give in to the inevitable. He's decided to channel his energy into something he can accomplish, rather than something out of his hands.**

 **Q: Did you ever think about killing Harry or Catherine in the story? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Erm, no, not really. Especially because Catherine's emotional journey is at the heart of the whole series, when all is said and done. I think she and Narcissa are the lynchpins around which everything else turns in the series. And it's never occurred to me that Harry dying would be beneficial in any way to the story. I will say, I've considered killing Narcissa, and Sirius, but this would be in Part 4, so you'll have to wait and see.**

 **Q: Will Harry, Snape, and Jason face anything dramatic, or is it just a manhunt? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Mostly, we're looking at a manhunt, but I will say that one of them will have a dramatic finale in the story, present at the climax, while the others are dealing with the dénouement. I think you can figure out which one without too much trouble.**

 **Cheers,**

 **C**


	28. The Dream Says

**A/N: Here's Bonus 1 for this week, and here's your big warning: we're ten chapters from the end of this part! Exciting!**

 **-C**

 _And the dream says I want you, and the dream is gone. – When I See You Again, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Lily heard the news Cedric Diggory would be coming back to the country, that he had to make a report to Draco because Scorpius was still tied up with something in the search. She knew there had to be more to the story, but Severus wasn't telling her, if there was.

She sat down with Cara and Sirius for dinner, knowing James would join them when he finished with whatever he was doing with a handful of his third year students who were near failing his class.

"There's an update on Narcissa?" Sirius said, his voice tight. She knew he was very worried about his cousin, as the two had grown closer and closer throughout the decades.

"Well, not a promising one," Lily said, frowning. "She's well into the false remission, so she seems fine. You know how it is. I pressed the matter with a few Healers, and we all agree she's likely to have the longer end of life-span, but it's almost impossible to say how much we can improve it with time. She's taking it with her usual grace, but I know she's not hopeful of a full remission. A true one. Well, it wouldn't be sensible to hold out such hope."

"What a terrible thing," Cara said softly, dishing up the salad.

Sirius hummed, and Lily couldn't help herself. She said softly, "Sirius, she said something rather odd about your father. What do you know about his…background?"

"His background?" Sirius said, laughing, which startled both women. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, his childhood, his adolescence, that sort of thing. I don't know."

Sirius sighed and shrugged.

"Haven't got a clue," he said. "I imagine his childhood was much like mine. He married his cousin, so one can't say much for his adolescence. Couldn't begin to tell you. Why, what did she say?"

"Oh, it was nothing," Lily said quickly, and she bit back the temptation to ask about his Uncle Alphard, although she knew he'd been a favorite uncle. Whatever answers she found, they might not end up feeling so kind to the memory of either man, and the small frown on Cara's face told her the women in his life all knew a bit more about his father than he did.

James arrived before Sirius could press the matter, and he announced his presence brightly, pulling off his raincoat and asking what was for dinner.

"Get in here," Lily said with a laugh. "How were your students?"

"Hopeless but one does have to try everything," he said, almost happily. "Hello, Cate. How are you keeping these days?"

"Oh, fine," Cara said, kissing his cheek as he leaned down to kiss hers. "How's Hogwarts? My husband tells me so little about it."

"It's much as it ever was," James said with a shrug, taking his seat and accepting his water without complaint. They never drank in front of Sirius anymore, especially now. "Pass the potatoes, will you, Padfoot? I'm famished."

/-/

Penny felt something was terribly wrong. She watched the Grave One and Mistress walking closer, spending more time shut up alone, and she knew Master had to return. Mistress visited with the dogs less and less, and when she was alone with Penny, her mind seemed elsewhere. She did not speak to Penny except when she wanted her to change direction, and she did not pause for cuddling at any point. Penny growled when they returned to the house to find the Grave One, who locked Penny in the garage as quickly as he could, but Mistress didn't seem not notice.

Could Mistress not see something was wrong, something was changed? Did she not understand the Grave One, whatever he was doing, was not a good thing, and they needed Master to come home?

But she did not seem to see, and Penny snapped her jaws a few times in frustration before she returned to her bed and fumed, attempting to figure out what to do.

/-/

Harry went to the meeting when Scorpius arrived in Vienna once more, and Harry could tell from the look on Scorpius's face, whatever he'd learned bothered him.

"It's the magical signature," he said softly, passing out fact sheets to each of them. "I was able to find it in a few cases in Amsterdam, something that seems to be…a type of poltergeist, anyway."

"So, it's like a ghost, not physical," Harry said.

"Peeves has enough physicality to cause chaos," Severus said darkly. "And from this, Cynthia may not even realize. They are almost solid to the eye of witches and wizards. But wouldn't show up on the Muggle cameras."

Harry felt a chill down his spine, wondering if Cynthia knew what she was dealing with. Something told him not.

"What does it want with her?" Jason asked, his voice tight.

"They feed off magical energy from certain emotional signatures," Scorpius said, flipping through his notes. "They aren't certain, because it seems different ones are attracted to different things. The theory one of my colleagues is working on is it's whatever emotion is left in the magical signature on the building. In Cynthia's case, I would guess it's feeding off her grief and pain at the loss of her sister. Whether this hurts her in any way is unknown. If anything, it might even be helping her. She doesn't have to grieve normally, and the longer she's with it, the more distant the grief is."

"Don't be stupid," Severus said sharply. "Whatever positive tidbits she gains, she loses a great deal in grieving normally. I assume the sexual nature of the relationship is part of the process. And something is always lost in magically-influenced sexual acts. The soul is far more delicate than you realize."

"But far more resilient than you're giving credit for," Harry said softly. "Cynthia will be fine, Severus. We just have to find her and bring her home."

"What happens if the subject is separated from the…poltergeist before the feeding is complete?" Jason asked softly, and Harry felt his stomach sink again.

"Unknown," Scorpius said with a frown. "Haven't found any cases of it. And before you ask, we don't know what happens in every case when they're done, but it probably depends on the type of emotions being fed on. The two cases we found were feeding on more…positive emotions. Think like a dementor. In fact, for some time, there was thought this was what had happened. Well, when there were no positive emotions left they…."

He shrugged, and Severus raised his eyebrows, obviously reading the surface thoughts where the unspoken answers were laying to be read.

"What?" Harry demanded.

Scorpius frowned, but said nothing.

"What?" Harry pressed again. "What did they do?"

"Harry," Severus said softly, but Harry shook his head, standing.

"Tell me what happened to them, Scorpius," Harry said, his pulse raising in his throat.

"It's a different case," Scorpius said slowly as Jason grabbed Harry's arm, trying in vain to pull him back into his seat. "There's no way to say…."

"Tell me!" Harry snapped, and Jason pulled harder, unable to get any result because Harry's fear and fury were mingling together, causing a great deal of strength.

"They killed themselves," Severus said softly, "but I sincerely doubt the loss of grief would cause such a reaction in your daughter, Harry."

"No," Harry said, thinking of Catherine after he killed Padma, thinking of how fragile and lost she was. "No, but if the poltergeist…thing, if it abandons her, then what?"

The men in the room were silent, and Harry realized they had all thought the same thing, but didn't want to say it in front of him. She would be lost, alone, afraid in some foreign country where she didn't speak the language. She would look back on her choices, think about the future, and what would she have? Would she feel she could come home, after everything? Would she understand how desperately her father needed her to come home with him?

"We will deal with that when we come to it," Severus said softly, exchanging a glance with Cedric Diggory, and this empty statement was followed by silence.

/-/

Rabastan didn't have to ask her, in reality. She pulled him upstairs, thinking it was a dream, but aware in the dream he was her uncle. He felt his pulse rising at the implications as he followed her up the stairs. He pressed his lips to hers, pleased when she wrapped her arms around his neck and led him into the master bedroom. His hands trembled as he knelt at her feet, kissing from her knees up. He savored the taste of her skin as he pressed kisses up her thighs, and he felt a pang of frustration as the mirror – her mirror – vibrated on the nightstand.

She sighed and sat on the bed, grabbing the mirror and putting a finger to her lips as she answered the call from her husband. Rabastan could feel his pulse racing even higher as he caressed her legs.

"Hello, Cat," Harry's voice said, tired and tight. "How are you sleeping?"

"Oh, a little better," she said, not a lie. "How are things in…Berlin?"

"Vienna," he said weakly, and Rabastan decided to keep kissing up Catherine's legs. He saw her swallow as he pressed his fingers against the fabric of her knickers watching her legs part at the touch. "How are the dogs?"

"Mmm, fine," Catherine said, squirming slightly. "Penny doesn't like Rabastan, but that's not new. I think she misses you."

"I miss you," Harry sighed. "I think we're getting close, though. I expect in a week or so, we'll have found her. Don't know what kind of shape she'll be in, but we'll find her. We're close enough behind, I'm certain she's alive."

"That's good," Catherine said, and Rabastan silently agreed. He leaned in and inhaled her scent, smiling to himself before pressing his mouth against her, through the fabric. He could taste her, delicious and sweet, and her muscles tightened.

"You sure you're alright?"

Rabastan let his tongue dart out, and she took her free hand and tangled it in Rabastan's hair, probably meaning to stop him, but her act only gave him more courage to be bold and take what he wanted. He pressed his tongue more firmly, and she tightened her fingers in his hair.

"Yeah, just tired," she said, smiling weakly. "I imagine you're not getting enough rest, either."

"Suppose I'm not." Rabastan used his fingers to move aside her knickers, removing that final barrier before tasting her again and feeling her legs spasm around him, her thighs tightening around him. "Jason's got it worse, though. I'm sure it's awful for Laura, worrying about him. She doesn't have anyone."

"She has work," Catherine argued. Her thighs held his head in place and he enjoyed his task. "I don't have that. I wish I could go back to work."

Rabastan's hands dug into her thighs, and he hoped she didn't realize it was from frustration. He tried to focus entirely on her body as she spoke, but every word she said was like a stab. He tried to drive her incoherent as quickly as possible, and she did cut off the conversation a bit early, saying she wanted to take a nap, and she would call him later – Rabastan hoped it was much, much later – and she set aside the mirror. He lifted himself from between her thighs and she stared at him for a long moment.

Catherine began to talk, but he shook his head.

"Don't speak," he said, walking himself forward with his hands, so his body hovered over hers. He kissed her, feeling her press against him, and he knew he would have her now, regardless of anything she'd said to her husband.

Little by little, she would be his, and with the new spell regimen, that week or so was enough time to make this last the rest of his life.

/-/

Sirius paced outside the castle, staring out over the lake with a frown every time he paused. After several rounds of pacing, he crossed to the lake and sat right on the bank, touching his fingers to the water.

"Hey, Celia," he whispered, smiling sadly as he stared at the water. He closed his eyes. "My beautiful granddaughter. I didn't really say goodbye, before, did I? I'm sorry, darling. I should have…. Well, Cyn's gone walkabout, and I haven't seen your mum or dad in ages. Makes me miss you all the more."

He felt his eyes stinging and he didn't bother lifting his hand to wipe or rub at them. Instead, he stared down at the lake.

"It's so funny you picked this spot," he said, his smile twisting bitterly. "You wouldn't know, of course. But I'll tell you a secret. When I was a first year and I got a Howler from my mum for being put in Gryffindor, this is where I came to be alone. Of course, your Grandad James never understood the value of privacy, and he thought alone meant alone together." He sniffed. "He was a prat, but he was just stubborn enough to make me look at myself."

He leaned forward, watching a few fish flitter by under the water level.

"And this is where I pushed in this one girl from Ravenclaw who kept trying to snog me. She was so furious." He laughed. "There were no other girls like your grandmother, Celia. Not for me. The rest of them were either your Grandma Lily or they were insane. Never worth the time of day.

"And I think this is the spot where my friends and I would lounge on sunny days, talking about all our plans and plots and mischief. We made our map here, and figured out our plan for how to become Animagi, and even worked out how to get Lily to fall in love with James." He blinked away a few tears. "Granted, it didn't go to plan, but I suppose it worked out for the best. And when your mum was born, as soon as she was strong enough to leave the house, I brought her here, walked her out into the lake a bit, just to see if she took to Hogwarts."

Sirius laughed, remembering how little baby Catherine tried to throw herself from his arms, to join the fish and the squid in the lake. Such a mind of her own, even then. The most beautiful, most precious thing.

"And when I learned your mum was pregnant with Cyn," he said, rubbing at his eyes now, feeling his stomach contract with sobs, "I came here in the middle of the night and I wished with everything I had that she would be alright, and that Cyn would be alright, and now I'm here all over again, wishing the same things, helpless. And I…I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't save you."

He gasped at the force of the words, letting a sob roll through his body, causing him to tremble as he covered his face rubbing at his eyes furiously.

"My beautiful little girl," he muttered, "I wish I could do something, anything to bring you back. I wish you knew."

He felt the velvety snout of a stag on his neck and he groaned, burying his face in his knees and shaking as James transformed back to human form, putting an arm around his best friend.

Sirius could hear in James's voice, he was not alone in his tears.

"I miss her, too," James whispered.

"Still no sense of privacy, I see," Sirius said bitterly. "My wife told you not to leave me alone?"

"Sirius," James sighed, rubbing under his glasses quickly, "you don't want to be alone."

Sirius's jaw twitched.

"No," he agreed, frowning down at the lake. "I want Cecilia."

The two men said nothing as they sat on the bank, both doing their best not to show the other just how much pain he was in, but knowing they both knew, regardless.

/-/

As soon as they were alone – although Penny knew they weren't truly alone, with the Grave One watching – Penny placed her paws as high on Mistress as possible, sniffing Mistress's face, kissing her neck and jaw. Mistress took the hint, sitting down and allowing Penny to paw at her lap, getting as close as possible.

"Hello, darling," Mistress said, smiling sadly. This was not the way it should be. Mistress did not laugh or smile or say anything with enthusiasm as she often did when she and Penny were alone, sharing kisses. "I'm sorry, you're confused. Truth is, I'm confused, too. I don't feel…the way I'm supposed to feel. I can't tell if I'm broken, or…."

She shook her head and blinked rapidly, her eyes glassy as she pressed her face against Penny's fur.

"I've felt this before, I think," Mistress whispered. "But it's been so long, and it's not quite like I remember…. I just don't know. But Penny, I'm…afraid. And I don't know why."

Penny didn't know what was wrong, but she knew it was not in her power to fix things, so she whimpered and tried to wrap Mistress up in her body, to shield her from everything bad.

/-/

Harry tried to sleep, rolled over several times and squeezed his eyes shut with frustration, but he could not sleep. The frustration was masking the real problem, though, the sensation in the pit of his stomach telling him somehow, something was terribly wrong. And as much as he told himself he would be able to sleep and deal with whatever it was in the morning, the fear something had happened to Cynthia or Catherine squeezed like an icy hand in his chest, and sleep was impossible.

 **A/N: So, Rhiannon's identity is revealed, Catherine is crumbling rapidly, and Sirius has a small meltdown.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you suppose Cynthia will go through when Rhiannon stops feeding?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will the more uncomfortable things Cahterine does, the more she will start to rebel? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Up to a point, this was true. Rabastan has started using more particular spells to keep her in line and speed up the process *cough, Unforgivables, cough* and that's basically melted her resistance to his suggestions, as we see in this chapter.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia have the Black illness? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Okay, not sure if this means the virus Narcissa and Astoria have or the issues with substance abuse. MINOR SPOILER: She won't have the virus, and she doesn't have nearly her mother's issues with substance, but she's not totally immune.**

 **Q: What careers did Ron & Hermione go into? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: This is more a reminder, because they've not really been in this one but they're coming back in Part 4…. Ron's in the WWW business, running a branch. Hermione works for the Ministry in the Creatures department, but she also runs a non-profit research and welfare clinic for house-elves. You'll see a lot more of the changed wizarding world in Part 4, and it'll be an interesting contrast to the world in Part 0.**

 **Q: Will Harry ever think he won't find his daughter? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Harry's an incurable optimist, so although he may worry about what condition he'll find her in, it would never cross his mind unbidden that he wouldn't find her. And if someone else brings it up, he balks. It's unfathomable to him, ever reaching a point where he'd say she was lost.**

 **Q: Is there a particular reason why Rhiannon choses the places they visit? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Erm, major cities it's easy to get to and easy to get lost in, with plenty of…clients. In major cities enough people in the service sector speak English that they're workable, even if Cynthia doesn't speak the native language. Also, I tried to select cities with character, dramatic and beautiful cities in different, striking ways.**

 **Q: Was Sirius just having a conversation with [Mr. Barker], or was he up to something? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Oh, it's Sirius. Let's be real. Of course he was up to something. But nothing sinister. Actually, this is his way of channeling his frustration and emotion in a positive, productive way.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	29. I Don't Want to Know

**A/N: Here's Bonus Two for the week! Everybody thank Noahtheowl, whose reviews today popped us over the count for a second bonus! We're on the home stretch for this part now.**

 **-C**

 _Now you tell me that I'm crazy. It's nothing I don't know. Trying to survive… - I Don't Want to Know, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Rabastan's mood was sour when he saw Catherine's eyes widen, feeling someone at the wards.

"I should see who it is," she said hazily, blinking with confusion. "It could be important. It might be about Cynthia."

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, but he said he would check in, see who it was.

Cedric Diggory was waiting at the gate, patiently, confidently, clearly not believing he would be turned away, and as he was part of the search, Rabastan didn't need to hear the younger man say he was there on behalf of Severus to know it was true.

"How is she?" Cedric asked, following a very annoyed Rabastan back to the Manor.

"Catherine is tired," Rabastan said tightly. "She is not sleeping well, but I expect this is true of many people involved in this. How is my nephew?"

"Very poor," Cedric said softly as Rabastan opened the door. He looked around at the entryway, obviously stunned at the opulence of the house. For a man who was very high in the Ministry structure, Rabastan found it amusing how easily impressed he was. "But we believe we're getting closer. She is…?"

"Right here."

They looked up the spiral staircase, where Catherine was descending, her hands shaking slightly on the rail. Perhaps seeing this, perhaps impatient, Cedric hurried up to meet her on them, kissing her hand and starting as she pulled her hand away and wrapped him in a hug. Rabastan's neck stiffened the way Cedric's back did, but the man relaxed into the embrace, hugging her to his chest. She was shaking like a leaf.

"We don't know," Cedric said gently. "We haven't found her yet, but we believe she's alive and healthy. We're getting close."

"You're sure?"

Catherine's voice was small, child-like, and Rabastan was reminded of her as a teenager, immature and spoiled, very much her father's darling girl.

"We're as sure as we can be without seeing her with our own eyes," Cedric said, and Catherine leaned out of the hug again, looking over Cedric's shoulder at Rabastan.

"Tea for our guest," she said, lady of the manor once more. "Come, we'll go to the sitting room. I want to know as much as Severus has cleared you to tell me."

Rabastan watched them go up the staircase, delaying a moment before crossing to the kitchen, taking deep breaths and putting on the kettle. He knew she'd never had any sexual regard for Cedric, not even when he was a handsome, successful, renowned teenager. But to see her touch someone else, even in an innocent way, was abhorrent to Rabastan in a way it had never been before. He wondered what it would be like, to see her embrace her father, to watch her kiss her husband, now that he'd tasted her, touched her, held her…

He quickly put together a tray, not comfortable leaving her alone with Cedric, not knowing what she might say, even on accident. He'd not renewed her spell regimen for the day, and the hold on her psyche was much looser than he usually had it when she spoke with Harry through her mirror.

As soon as he had the tea ready, he joined them in the sitting room, laying out the tea and sitting across the table from them. Cedric was explaining, in very vague terms, how they believed Cynthia was not acting entirely on her own accord, but they did believe she was not under bodily harm and might not be under any kind of emotional duress.

"It's complicated," Cedric said, "and I am not the best person to explain, I'm afraid. I just had to deliver the report to the Minister, but it was written by Scorpius."

"He's a very intelligent young man," Catherine said, smiling sadly. "Daddy always said he would be brilliant at whatever he wanted to do. You have enough material to test her, when you find her? For the retrovirus."

Rabastan started. How did she know?

Cedric raised his eyebrows and said, "How…?"

"Simple enough to tell what the tests were for," Catherine said coolly. "Uncle Rabastan left them out in my lab while they were developing."

His throat tightened as he heard her call him that, but Rabastan could have kicked himself for leaving the tests somewhere she would see. He should have known she would have figured it out.

"Yes, we have what we need," Cedric assured her softly. "Severus is prepared to test her, and if, for some reason, he is not present or capable, Scorpius has been trained, as well. Not that it takes any remarkable skill, but he is sleeping better than the rest of us, and it lessens the margin of error."

"Oh, Cedric, you haven't met the dogs!" Catherine said suddenly, brightening. "Oh, come, the tea can wait. I want you to meet our dogs."

Rabastan almost protested, but it seemed important to her, and he watched her drag Diggory downstairs to the garage. He tried to decide whether to follow, and he swallowed his nausea as best he could.

/-/

Sirius clapped his hands together to startle his sixth year students out of their sleepiness, which always set in toward the end of the hour when he gave them a full class to work on their projects. Kenrick Whitby blinked, stunned, and Coreen Prewett's head jerked off her desk, her hand rapidly wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Use your afternoons wisely," Sirius said as they packed up their books. "If you need to check the appointment schedule before you go, do so, but don't miss your weekly appointment to discuss your projects. By now, you should have nailed down your proposal and your planning, maybe even begun the meat of your research. Be prepared with questions for me!"

They were slipping out of the room, gossiping and checking the schedules on the back wall as they left, but Gareth was still sitting in his chair. Sirius waited for the room to empty and checked his watch.

"If you need to speak, Gareth, you've got about ten minutes before my fourth years start showing up."

"Nowell and Nigella?" Gareth asked, smiling what looked more a grimace than anything else.

"Yeah," Sirius said, sitting on the desk beside Gareth's, frowning at his grandson, who looked…expressionless. "What's on your mind?"

He'd assumed it was about Cecilia or Cynthia, perhaps his father's role in the search, or the weight of secrets in their family.

"How did you…. There's things I can't ask my mum, you know?" Sirius nodded, nervous. "I'm not even sure if I could ask my dad. I don't know if we're quite there yet, but…how did you know you were ready for sex?"

Sirius didn't know what to say, but he was almost relieved his grandson was asking about sex instead of about the greatest worries of the adults in his life.

"Two things," Sirius said sternly, "and then you'll have to go. First, see me in my office during dinner. We'll Floo to the cottage and have this chat with your grandmother. You'll want both perspectives."

"The second thing?" Gareth asked, his smile much more relaxed now, his gray eyes like looking in a mirror, except they were so serene and smooth compared with how Sirius had been at that age.

"Never, ever do drugs."

"I know."

"No, Gareth, promise me," Sirius said, sighing. "We don't tell you these things because we want to spoil your fun. I'm telling you because I wasn't a very good parent, and I want to be a good grandparent."

"I promise," Gareth said earnestly, packing up his books. "What's Nana making for dinner?"

Sirius grinned and shrugged. When he told her Gareth was coming over, she'd probably make a Sunday roast, just to spoil their eldest grandson. He reminded Gareth, as he was leaving, to check the appointment schedule, and then he cleared the board, preparing his notes quickly for the fourth year students.

/-/

Penny sniffed the hands of the newcomer with interest, as Mistress pointed out each dog. He was softer, kinder than the Grave One, and he seemed keenly interested in the dogs. When the Newcomer knelt beside Penny to become better acquainted, she tasted his face, curious.

Mistress smiled, but she did not laugh as she should have done, and Penny saw a thoughtfulness in the Newcomer's eyes, smelling his concern. This man could see what Penny saw, that something was terribly wrong with Mistress. Penny whined, trying to tell him what he needed to know – that the Grave One had to go, that Master had to come home, that he had to find a way to help Penny fix things.

"They're beautiful," the Newcomer said, patting Penny's head sympathetically.

He seemed to know, Penny decided, watching them leave with some regret. He seemed to know, but could he make things right?

/-/

As they walked the grounds, Rabastan making lunch, Catherine found she didn't want Cedric Diggory to leave. Not him, exactly, but the bodily manifestation of another person, not just Harry's disembodied face in a mirror.

"This is real, right?" she asked, although she thought it was supposed to be the dream. Long as he'd been here, she wasn't sure, and she couldn't keep track. Had she woken up, or fallen asleep? Where did Cedric fit in, either way?

"What?" he asked, bemused, pausing.

"I mean, you're not a dream, are you?" she asked. Catherine rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them. "I…can't tell."

Cedric's eyes flashed, concerned, and he pursed his lips for a moment before he reached out and grabbed her earlobe.

"What are you doing?" she asked, forcing a nervous laugh. "Cedric?"

He yanked on the lobe, digging his nails into the flesh to cause two kinds of discomfort – even pain. Catherine yelped, swatting his arm away, astonished he'd do such a thing.

"Not a dream," he said, raising his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes. "Sorry for the pain, but it'll fade. I won't. I'm physically here, and when I leave I'll be physically gone. But I'm not a dream, Catherine. Have you been having a hard time keeping track?"

She didn't know what to say. She'd only just felt she understood where the lines were, but between the roleplay and the echoes of dream in reality, reality in dream, and now Cedric showing up…in the dream?

But it wasn't a dream, was it? He'd just attempted to show her it was real, and she couldn't imagine having this conversation in a dream.

"Tell me about…me," she said, smiling nervously.

His eyes were concerned, but to his credit, he said nothing about the concerns. He simply obliged.

"I met you at school," he said, resuming the walk, glancing up at the house with a frown. "You were beautiful and wild, charming and superior, talented and exceedingly cruel. I thought I loved you."

"We were children," she said, smiling nervously, recalling with easy clarity all the things he said, the way he would ask her out so politely and she would refuse him with such coldness.

"I think it had more to do with your closeness with Harry," Cedric continued, shrugging. "I didn't understand it then. I doubt either of you did, either, but seeing you together…. Well, I've long since decided we would have been terrible together. I don't understand your relationship, and that's probably for the best, but I admire and envy the way you love each other. Especially because I doubt I'll ever find something like it."

"You'll find someone."

"That's not what I want," Cedric said. "I want to find someone…I adore as much as Harry adores you, who needs me the way you need him. That's the ideal."

"Don't," Catherine said, feeling her pulse racing, feeling a horrible wave of guilt rush through her body, blending with confusion and a strange sensation crawling on her skin that she couldn't quite place. "Cedric, whatever you do, don't envy me anything. I think…"

She choked on the words and shook her head to dismiss his unspoken questions.

 _I think I'm going mad._

/-/

Rabastan couldn't walk Cedric Diggory off the premises soon enough. He hated how Catherine had so much time alone with the man, saying Merlin knows what. And surely Diggory would take it back to her husband, or maybe worse, to Severus.

"I hope you understand why I've been so delicate with her," Rabastan said as they walked. "It's taken its toll on all the family, of course, but while Catherine seems to manage it well, she has not been sleeping, and I can only conclude it is the stress of the search. Harry said something about a week or so?"

"Yes, I believe we're quite close," Cedric said, his face closed and diplomatic. Part of his job, certainly, but not aiding Rabastan's curiosity at all. "I suppose she's not allowed to take anything for her sleep?"

"No," Rabastan said, frowning. "I've done what I can with herbal teas and some low-grade charms, but I am increasingly of the opinion that only the reunification of her family will truly soothe her troubles."

Diggory hummed and then said, lingering at the gates, "Of course, it will never truly be reunified."

Rabastan's stomach turned and he asked what Diggory meant. He wondered whether someone had become curious about the sudden disappearance – excused or otherwise – of Miss Cotton. He thought it all been rather forgotten, that the woman wouldn't be missed…. But perhaps he was wrong.

"Her youngest," Diggory said, his eyebrows twitching slightly. "Cecilia. I was unable to attend the funeral. I heard she was cremated?"

"Ah, yes," Rabastan said, relaxing slightly, feeling his shoulders unknit. "A very stubborn girl with very particular wishes. She knew quite young she wanted to take such…unorthodox measures. And even in death, her mother and father indulged her, although I believe neither was quite pleased about it. They spread the ashes into Black Lake. It was a lovely ceremony. A pity you were unable to attend."

"Yes, I was caught up in Germany at the time," Diggory said, frowning back up at the house. Rabastan was curious to see if he could spot the small figure of Catherine in a window, watching, but he didn't want to turn his back on Diggory for any reason. "It was good to see her, to talk to her. We haven't had a proper conversation, beyond pleasantries, in many years. I believe the last time was her making some rather…crude and harsh comments about what she'd do to my privates if I didn't stop pestering her. I did, but…reluctantly. She was always a remarkable woman."

"Yes, always," Rabastan said, irked further by the reminder that Cedric had attempted to pay court to Catherine. "I expect you are returning to the continent shortly?"

"Yes, just a few short errands before my portkey," Diggory said, glancing at his pocket watch. "A pleasure, sir, as always." Rabastan echoed the sentiment and would have gone back to the house with very little concern had Diggory not then said, "Most illuminating."

Rabastan's spine tingled and stiffened, but Diggory had already stepped outside the boundary of the gates and Disapparated, leaving a stunned and uncomfortable Rabastan Lestrange standing alone at the end of the drive.

"Damn," he muttered, rubbing at the inside of his left forearm absently, thinking of what Severus might make of what Catherine and Rabastan had certainly said in front of Diggory. "Damn it all."

He didn't think there was anything too troublesome, and being so close to finding Cynthia, surely Severus would not leave the search to trouble them. But he might…he might send Narcissa, in the middle of her false remission. Or perhaps Catherine's in-laws. Or worse….

Cara. Cara who shouldn't remember, but might. With memories, there were always traces, even when an expert did the work. And Rabastan was never an expert on the human mind, even now. Certainly not all those years ago.

He stalked back up to the house, feeling a dizzy disassociation from his body as he greeted Catherine in the sitting room.

"Shall we go to bed?" he asked her, not thinking about dinner. She frowned at him, puzzled, and asked if he was alright. He wasn't sure for a moment whether she was supposed to be in her dream state or reality, whether she thought she was awake or dreaming. At the moment, he didn't care. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and press his skin on hers and leave off thinking about how he was going to manage their little…situation until morning. Until he could at least charm her into a proper, restful, dreamless sleep so he could have some time to think and not worry about whether she was progressing as she ought, in any reality.

"Fine, darling, fine," he said absently. "Only I'm a bit tired, and I'm sure you're tired, and a lie-in sounds nice, doesn't it? For a while."

Catherine blinked, glancing at the stairwell in the rotunda, obviously thinking about Cedric, touching her pocket where she thought her mirror ought to be before saying alright, that sounded nice.

His stomach turned. Was she only agreeing to be in bed with him because she couldn't think where the mirror was? Would she rather be talking to Harry?

He wished once, just once, she would tell him she loved him without extreme coaxing and severe sleepiness influencing the words. He wanted her to believe in the possibility of their love the way he saw it now, unfolding before him. Anything would be possible if she believed in this future, but if he couldn't convince her, he was afraid he would not have enough time to realize his dreams. They were too close to finding her daughter, and then his world would come crashing down around him.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia struggles with reality all over again, Gareth has important life questions, and Cedric has a lot to say to Severus.**

 **Review Prompt: How do you think Severus is going to react to Cedric's account of the visit?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Are Rabastan and Catherine using protection? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: I shouldn't laugh, but I did laugh a bit when I read this. Rabastan is absolutely using protection. One thing he knows from Cara's life history is that the last thing he wants to mess with is trying to explain away that Catherine is somehow pregnant while Harry's been away and no one else but Rabastan has seen her in ages. He's being quite careful.**

 **Q: Won't people notice if Catherine gets cut off from everybody else? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: If you mean where she doesn't leave Potter Manor for anything while they're searching for Cynthia, this is what is expected. It's so they can keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything self-damaging like Sirius tried to do when he went out and bought more cigarettes. If you mean after, yes. Catherine's odd behavior would absolutely be noticed. That's part of why Rabastan so wants her to be a willing participant, so she could be clever about the subterfuge and less likely to be caught.**

 **Q: Is there one thing Rabastan wants that he hasn't got Catherine to do yet? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: I sort of covered it here, but the one thing Rabastan really wasn't that Catherine hasn't given him is a sense that she could love him. He wants to be as important for her as she is for him.**

 **Q: Would Cynthia ever leave Rhiannon, or does she love her too much? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Speaking hypothetically, she probably would, if things became too distant from what she decides she wants. Cynthia is still very young, has plenty of time to grow and change, and under her behavior she is a very level-headed girl. She would take some difficulty to leave, but once she decided it was important, she would do it and really think it through.**

 **Q: Will Rabastan be able to stop? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: I think Rabastan's reached a point in this where he can't see life without a sexual relationship with Catherine. Even if he thought it was prudent and essential to stop, I don't think he could.**

 **Q: When will Rabastan stop using the dream world and start seducing her in the real world? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Two things. First, he really wanted her to seduce him in the real world, which she sort of did, with a bit of extra magic to coax her. Second, the only time he would stop using the dream world, in theory, is weaning her off it when Harry returns, so she doesn't feel like it's missing. The plan is to have her so involved in the affair that she would meet him in London without any difficulty, where he would sometimes put her in the dream world, slowly weaning her off until she doesn't need it anymore. At least, that's his plan.**

 **Q: Would Rabastan kill Cedric to keep what he has been doing to Catherine a secret? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: I won't say the thought didn't cross his mind for a flash when Cedric first appeared, and before Cedric left. The trouble is, he knows Cedric is too important to just go missing, and he didn't have time to do it discretely. Catherine might have been watching, and he certainly didn't have a plan for disposing of the body. Would he like to? Yes. But Rabastan is practical enough to know that unlike with Rhiannon, it would raise more questions than it answered. Sort of why he doesn't kill the dogs. If all those dogs suddenly went missing, it would be a void impossible to explain away. If Cedric just didn't return to the hunt for Cynthia, it was another void that couldn't be explained.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	30. Then You Fade Away

**A/N: Here's your weekly update! So excited that we're in the thirties, now. Things are really kicking off!**

 **-C**

 _First you love me, then you fade away. – Monday Morning, Fleetwood Mac (Lindsey Buckingham)_

Severus had been on edge since Cedric went to England, then to follow up on a few leads in other countries. He'd been expecting word from the man all day, but instead he was sitting in the front room of the suite the search was sharing, sharing a private drink with Alastor Moody while the younger men slept off a long planning session.

"I should have known," Moody said with a frown.

At least, Severus thought it was a frown. The man's face no longer resembled anything enough like a face to be quite certain.

"Pardon?" Severus asked, after dispatching the rest of his share of the alcohol. It was a rare treat – not something to be indulged in where Harry or Jason might see. The younger men were enough on edge without reminders of their inability to partake in such things.

"I should have known when Sirius Black decided to procreate," Moody growled, "one day I'd be chasing his wayward descendants across Europe. I told Albus the girl was trouble."

"I presume you mean Cara," Severus said, curling his lips into a sneer and crossing to the window overlooking the city. Cara was many things, but trouble was not a word to do her justice. Severus believed all the trouble in Sirius life was of the man's own making, even this. To some degree.

"Aye. She didn't prove to be a spy, per se, but I wasn't wrong about her being a plant."

"She killed the Dark Lord and ended the war."

"And then of their children, they cursed one, created a feckless heathen with the power to destroy armies with her whims, and perhaps the sorriest excuse for a spoiled rich child I've ever seen."

At this, Severus felt a rush of frustration, not on behalf of Jason or Caroline, who could defend themselves, but for his prodigy.

"Say another word against Catherine Potter and I will curse you myself," Severus said, softly and smoothly, as though commenting on the shape of the clouds outside and nothing more remarkable.

"Don't try to tell me she's not more trouble than she's worth."

Severus licked his lips, not wanting to argue a lost cause. In truth, between the brilliant discoveries Catherine had made in their field and his deep personal affection for her, he never would have called her a lost cause. A victim of her father's desperate tenderness, to the point of ruining her. A victim of a grotesque man who aimed to possess her for a way to hurt her father and destroy something precious. A victim of bad luck, and the runaway nature of a brilliant but crazed woman twisting Catherine's rebellious divulgences. It could be argued she brought the mess on herself, but Severus could not see another way it all could have gone, and believed she was merely swept up on the tide.

Much as Cara's childhood had been, but with gilding. But the pretty trimmings and trappings did not change the essence of rot surrounding Catherine, something utterly out of her control. She was lucky to have a husband as patient and devoted as Harry, and so many supportive, influential aunts and uncles and parents and godparents, et cetera.

"The daughters," Moody said softly, and Severus was pulled from his reverie. "They take after their grandfather and mother, I expect."

"Which grandfather?" Severus asked slyly, evasively.

"Both were pains in my backside," Moody said with a snort. "Let me guess. The dead one was like James Potter, the one we're hunting like her mother."

"Actually," Severus said with a small frown, "I thought Celia was an interesting mix between Cara and Harry with perhaps a dash of her mother, and Cynthia is…. Cynthia reminds me very much of Lily and Harry. Or…she did."

"Before she ran?"

Severus hummed, pressing his hands against the window to open it as an owl approached the window.

The message was from Diggory: He'd been to Potter Manor, he'd seen Rabastan and Catherine both. No seeming immediate danger, but something was nagging at him. He suggested Severus and Cedric find a way to speak about it privately as soon as he returned – in two days. He was digging up something rather interesting in Moscow, something he hoped would help the search for Cynthia, shorten it by a day, at least.

"He's coming back?" Moody asked the clinking of glass on glass telling Severus that his comrade was pouring another glass. Severus didn't mind not being offered a glass. He wouldn't have taken it if it had been offered. Catherine's drug concern might not have scared Severus sober, but it did make him think more about his own consumption, considering his own father's abuse of drink. He was much more cautious than he'd been in his youth.

"Soon," Severus said softly. "Day after tomorrow. I'll want you to…occupy Harry and Jason while I meet with him."

"Discussing the mother."

"Yes, he's updating me on Catherine," Severus snapped. "It's probably nothing."

But if it wasn't….

/-/

Cynthia woke to a cold bed, which was not unusual. No food was waiting out for her, which was not uncommon, and she smoothed her hair off her face, rubbing her eyes in a child-like gesture. Such a thought, such an act, would have reminded her of her own childhood not a week ago, perhaps given her a painful memory of playing with her little sister a month ago.

She felt nothing now, and no memories bubbled within her. Instead, she thought she might wait a bit to eat, and crossed to the balcony, pulling her dressing-gown tight about her. The morning was chilly – she didn't care what the people below thought of her skin.

Perhaps it was the weather, but there were very few people milling by on the street below, and only the pigeons truly populated the region her eyes could see. Cynthia couldn't have said why, but she felt the pigeons were kindred spirits, roaming from place to place, looking for a bit of food, occasionally pestering those nearby, then moving on again. Not really a life for a woman, but not a bad one for a pigeon. Perhaps.

She breathed the cool air deep into her lungs, taking several deep breaths, holding them long as she could, before she exhaled again, staring up at the overcast sky, a rolling, marbled gray blanket over her head.

Cynthia's stomach growled lightly and she exhaled, flicking hair off her shoulder and smoothing it up into a plait before she went back to the kitchen, finding a few things to eat, but not much. She made a very small breakfast and wondered when Rhiannon would be back so they could talk about what to do about food. Rhiannon probably went shopping for groceries, of course, but Cynthia supposed it was something that couldn't be overlooked.

She ate her small breakfast, poured herself some water, and contemplated making a cup of tea as she settled on the balcony again. She'd glanced at the jar where she kept her…earnings, and there was plenty in it. Enough to last her at least a week in Rome, but of course they wouldn't stay so long. They didn't stay anywhere so long these days, except….

Except Rhiannon had yet to mention where they were going next, or even when they might be moving on again. Of course, Rhiannon had a plan, but Cynthia hadn't heard about it yet. This didn't bother her, but it was curious compared with how she'd been in the last few cities.

More people were on the street below by lunch, and Cynthia decided to eat a small lunch and take a nap. She could get a client with ease, even this time of day, but Cynthia preferred to sleep unless Rhiannon was here. She felt no particular drive to seduce anyone right now, just wanted to spend some time in her own space, not precisely her own bed, but good as for the moment.

It was harder to sleep in the middle of the day, but she managed it, waking again near what she supposed was dinnertime. Cynthia rubbed her eyes, making herself some food, pouring herself a glass of wine, and eating on the balcony, watching the young lovers strolling along to the bistros and cafes, laughing and talking and kissing. A young woman, maybe five years older than Cynthia, with a form-hugging dress and a dark but attractively built boyfriend clinging to her, was within Cynthia's range of view. Cynthia watched the woman, her mind thinking easily of how she would seduce her, how she would caress the woman's milky skin with feather-light kisses, how she would taste this woman, tease this woman, until the woman's crimson-painted lips begged for release and her eyes shined with adoration and climax. Cynthia licked her lips as the woman looked up at her, as if sensing Cynthia's thoughts.

The two women watched each other as the boyfriend kissed the throat of the woman Cynthia was fantasizing about, and Cynthia wondered if this woman was imagining his lips were Cynthia's lips, his hands at the waist were Cynthia's hands at her waist Cynthia let her dressing gown fall slightly open, not breaking the woman's gaze. As she traced her hand up her own leg, the woman's mouth fell slightly open, and Cynthia licked her own lips, exaggerated, seeing the woman lean slightly toward her, as if in trance.

Cynthia did a surreptitious charm to conjure a bit of paper with her room number on it, and she lazily let it drift over the balcony rail, watching it float, directing it to the young woman's hands. The woman looked up at her and Cynthia decided to give a bit more encouragement, going back into the room, taking off the dressing gown so her bare silhouette would be visible from the street, and she arched her body, smoothing hair off her face, and then crossing to the bed, stretching out on it, closing her eyes and waiting.

She wasn't surprised when the woman knocked on her door not ten minutes later. She was mildly surprised when the woman was alone, but Cynthia hardly minded, greeting the stranger with a lingering kiss, enjoying the nervous but hungry way the woman responded as Cynthia led her into the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

/-/

Sirius rubbed his top row of teeth repeatedly over his bottom lip, subconsciously searching for stray bits of dry skin to slough off with his teeth as he unlocked the door to the cottage. He'd promised to Cara to take her into Oxford on Sunday. It was Damon's day off, and Caroline had arranged her schedule so they could give Cara a full day without babysitting, and Sirius had promised his wife they'd do whatever she wanted. And for some bizarre reason, she wanted to go into Oxford. She always wanted to go there, of all places.

But they had Saturday for him to get used to the idea, he mused, pulling off his coat, then his cloak, and yanking his scarf away from his neck.

"Cat?"

"Kitchen!"

He moved through to the kitchen, smiling a little as she rubbed her neck, her brown hair with a smattering of gray tied up, pulled off her neck. He thought of how many hundreds or even thousands of kisses he'd pressed to her neck in their life together, and he thought perhaps he ought to press a few more. He crept up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist, kissing her neck happily as she leaned against him, sighing.

"Good day at the school, then?" she asked.

Sirius hummed. After having a long, healthy talk with their grandson about relationships, sex, marriage, and children, all over dinner, Sirius had been thinking they ought to have their grandchildren at the school over to the cottage more often. He wouldn't mind bringing Jowan and Isebella sometime, but he knew it was quite a precedent to set, with as many grandchildren as they had.

"I was thinking about Sunday," she said, the smile so evident in her voice. "Could we go to the market?"

"If you'd like," he said. He didn't understand her interest in the covered market, but he thought the place was pleasant enough. It was a crowd she didn't seem to mind, and he thought it might have something to do with being more comfortable in the Muggle world than the wizarding one. They simply didn't have the same worries among the Muggles, and he approved of anything making his wife feel comfortable. "Whatever you'd like, love."

/-/

Cynthia woke with the strange woman beside her, which was unusual. They'd not exchanged names and she blinked as she looked about the hotel room, feeling a kind of heaviness in her limbs she wasn't used to feeling. The woman stirred beside her, and Cynthia felt the woman's hand trace her body, with a slight frown, eyes closed as she tried to determine who was beside her. When she reached Cynthia's breasts her eyes opened, and she blinked, puzzled, before she recalled the night before and what they'd done.

It was easy enough to recognize the shock and momentary horror and whatever in her life she thought she'd ruined and betrayed before she smiled a little, recalling how it had felt, how pleasant everything had been. Cynthia licked her lips and didn't bother smiling as the woman murmured an Italian greeting. Cynthia closed her eyes as the woman kissed her lips, down her neck, to her breasts, and she spread her legs, allowing the woman to kiss between them as well. She wondered vaguely were Rhiannon was, when she would be back, if perhaps she'd been back while Cynthia and the woman were asleep, tangled in each other, and she'd left again to give them privacy.

She'd done it before.

After Cynthia climaxed, kissing the woman, she watched the woman cross to the bathroom, the shower, and she knew she was expected to follow. Although Cynthia was hungry, she didn't mind the idea of seeing the water on this woman's skin, before she left. Cynthia decided she wouldn't bother taking money from this woman, either, although she didn't think why. Instead she pulled herself out of bed, stretching like a cat, before crossing to the kitchen. She paused, frowning as she saw something on the counter that hadn't been there the night before. Laid out, in a line, were five tablets – the ones Rhiannon gave Cynthia to make the world melt into bliss and sensation. A small moment of confusion, and then Cynthia realized what this meant.

Somehow, some way, Rhiannon was gone. And Cynthia knew instinctively and completely that she wasn't coming back. She didn't know why Rhiannon had left, where she'd gone, or what she'd do now, but Rhiannon had abandoned her in Rome, and Cynthia felt shaken to the core. She stared at the tablets, not sure what she could have done wrong, how she could have prompted her lover to leave when she'd done everything asked of her, everything she'd done from the beginning.

But she didn't feel loss, exactly, just a kind of emptiness. She should have cried, but instead she was numb. She picked up one of the tablets and frowned at it before she placed it on her tongue and let the world melt around her. She could hear the shower, hear the woman in it humming, and she felt her body thrum with anticipation as she let her feet carry her to the shower. Nothing to peel of her skin before stepping in, and the woman wrapped her arms around Cynthia's neck, pulling her close as she kissed her.

Cynthia gave in, allowing her hands to roam this woman's body, seeking to forget her current predicament – alone in Rome, no more Rhiannon, no more purpose, no more guide. Instead, she allowed the melding sensations and sounds be her escape, allowed her body to follow its reactions to completion, allowed her instincts to repay the pleasure this woman gave her.

And when it was over, when they made love once more in the hotel bed, Cynthia ignored the woman until she left the room, and locked the door behind her. Cynthia sank onto the sofa, wrapping the dressing gown around her body, turning her back to the balcony. What could she have done wrong?

Of course, Cynthia was too tired to focus her thoughts, and of course she couldn't manage any such thoughts while she was still coming down from the tablet. Planning was impossible, but Cynthia did manage to decide she ought to get some food in the morning, just enough to last a couple of days, to give her enough time to decide what to do next. Then she hummed a melody she didn't recall the name of, didn't recall the last time she'd heard it, as she closed her eyes and allowed the warmth of the room wrap around her.

 _In her dreams, she was standing on a warm hilltop, a grassy knoll, looking down at a lake. The wind tossed her dark hair about her face as she watched the water ripple under the force of the wind. She could smell fresh-cut grass, some kind of flower, the scents of spring. She could hear laughter, youthful, girlish laughter, and she thought if she turned around she would see herself at seven or so, see her baby sister toddling along behind her. It was not a sad thought, just a thought rippling across her consciousness the way the waves rippled over the lake, and she turned, seeing not her and her sister, but her parents. The girls were nearby, and she knew her parents were watching them. She saw her mother press her face against her father's neck, her frail, thin, but graceful hands resting against his chest as he smoothed her hair under his fingers. Cynthia watched her father close his eyes, caressing her mother's hair, and in a completely numb, blasé way, she decided she wished to go home._

 _But could she? This image was gone, dead. A past she could not retrieve._

 _And Rhiannon was gone._

 **A/N: So, Cynthia is alone in Rome, Severus and Moody have a chat about the past and the present and how they connect, and Sirius tries to seize the day.**

 **Review Prompt: Who has a better handle on the Blacks, do you reckon? Severus or Mad-Eye.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Why didn't James and Lily have more children? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Great question! I imagine that Harry was a handful as a child, especially when on play dates with Catherine. Lily worked a lot, and James is great but he is a bit of a big kid, too. I expect they did talk quite a bit about having a second, especially when Jason was born and was such a serene child, but by the time Caroline came along, they'd still not got around to it and she was such a terror, they didn't want to chance it. Harry was getting a bit old for a sibling to come around, and his competitive nature wouldn't have lent itself well to having a younger sibling.**

 **Q: Has Rabastan picked this moment because of the tragedy, so he knows Catherine will be mentally weak? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Absolutely. He hadn't planned any of this in advance, but he is definitely taking advantage of the tragedy and her previous mental concerns. He knows from the issues with Karkaroff that she's not as mentally resilient as her mother has become. The tragedy and this knowledge together presented an opportunity he couldn't pass up.**

 **Q: If you could visit one country, what would it be? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: That's tricky. If I could go back to a country I've already seen, it'd absolutely be England. I could live there, if I figured out how to swing it. Unless I get independently wealthy. As far as places I haven't been…. Argh, that's tough. Ireland, probably. I'm hugely interested in the history of Irish independence, and I'd give an arm to spend some quality time studying it at the source.**

 **Q: Will Catherine's love for Harry stop Rabastan getting full control over her? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: It's definitely a big factor. There's that, and there's the attachment to her father. He might have had less resistance, even with her love for Harry, if he hadn't pushed his fetish for the father-daughter roleplay. The two together have caused a definite slowing and lessening of his control. She wants to believe in reality (what she thinks is the dream), but she's terribly confused.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia have the disease? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: MINOR SPOILER ALERT! No. She'll be remarkably healthy, actually, considering that she's been traipsing across Europe with a symbiotic spirit, prostituting herself for a living. Y'all are about to see her differences from her mother, and she'll probably start to remind you a lot more of Harry.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	31. The Chain

**A/N: Here's Bonus One for the week! Everybody thank** _ **AvinaNox**_ **for her catch-up reading!**

 **-C**

 _And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again. – The Chain, Fleetwood Mac_

Cara woke in the middle of the night between Saturday and Sunday, with a sharp stab of fear, although she could not think why. She thought of her dream, trying to think what was so startling. She wasn't physically uncomfortable, she didn't have to use the toilet, she wasn't too hot or too cold, and Sirius was sleeping peacefully beside her, so it must be something from a dream.

She closed her eyes and thought of a picnic they'd taken with Catherine, Harry, and their children, some years ago. Over a decade ago, she thought, with a pleasant, soft smile as she recalled Cynthia and Cecilia running through the grass, quite small. Harry and Catherine had seemed as happy as they'd ever been in life, and Sirius was almost young again with all the grandchildren and a long stretch without complication or pain. A sunny blot on a lifetime that was a mix of various shades of rest and crisis blending together.

Leaning against her pillows, she traced her fingers through Sirius's hair, feeling the soft dark hairs mixed with slightly coarser gray ones. She frowned as she recalled what had ended the dream, and her sleep, so abruptly – a sudden cold wind and the children had vanished. Catherine was standing alone on the far side of the lake, separate from all of them, and Harry was screaming for his family, but with no response. Sirius had been writhing in pain, and Cara only felt cold.

Thinking of it now, she felt cold. She rubbed her eyes, trying to figure out what to do about the dream. She yawned. In…six hours, she would have breakfast with her husband, and they would go into Oxford together as she managed to talk him into once or twice a year, when she the stars aligned and they had enough free time together for a day out. They would start at the market, perhaps stroll through the Muggle university, see some church structures. Last spring, he'd taken her to a large, Muggle home called Blenheim, and she was startled with how much it felt like a warmer version of Selwyn Manor. Grand, stately, but without house-elves, and she realized at one time, it served simply as a home for wealthy, important Muggles, but for some reason it had become a tourist destination.

She'd found the concept fascinating, but Sirius was uncomfortable, perhaps reminded too much of his own youth and heritage.

"Cat?" she heard him stir, sleepy and confused. He blinked through heavy eyelids at her, frowning slightly as she caressed his cheek. "Everything alright?"

"Just a strange dream, darling," she said softly. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Not nothing," he said, sitting up and frowning down at her face. "A nightmare?"

"Not really," she said, not sure if she was lying or telling the truth. "Just go back to sleep, darling. I love you."

"Love you," he murmured, shifting to press his face to her collarbone as he relaxed into his sleep again, and she hoped he had sweet, untarnished dreams.

/-/

Severus met Cedric in a café, well away from where the search party were staying. Cedric was uneasy, thought it might be nothing, but if it wasn't nothing, Severus wanted to hear about it well away from where Jason or Harry might hear. He needed to decide a course of action without their emotions and sentimentality getting in the way and causing foolish behavior.

"You paid a surprise visit to Potter Manor," he said smoothly as a man with a bizarrely long beard served their coffee.

Cedric nodded, took a sip of his coffee, and said, "Yes, I did. As you suspected, Rabastan greeted me at the gates."

"Not unusual, or ill-advised," Severus said with a nod. "She looked unwell?"

Cedric pursed his lips and twisted them, considering.

"Not unwell," he said slowly. "Not…ill or anything. Tired might explain it, and they certainly said often enough how she wasn't sleeping well. Is Rabastan normally so surly?" Severus shrugged. The man could be described as such, and he likely would be protective of his niece, given the strain on her. "Well, what with Jason and Harry and their lack of proper sleep, I might have thought nothing of it. Except…."

"Except?" Severus prompted sharply. He didn't care what was causing the hesitation, the beating around the bush was not productive.

The younger man cleared his throat, nodded, and said, "Except for a few things. They said it so much, it seemed like…. Well, well-rehearsed. And whenever I was with her and he wasn't around, she was different. Like, when we were with the dogs, or when we walked the grounds. Totally different person. And then she asked me the strangest question."

This had Severus's interest, and he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Saying it often was unusual, but not damning. Certainly not proof of anything worse. Catherine's shifts in moods and behaviors could also be explained away, although it did make Severus uneasy, thinking of how fragile her mind still was after all she'd gone through, sure to be more fragile with the death of Cecilia and the search for Cynthia. But the question…

"What did she ask?"

Cedric took a few sips of his coffee, glancing at Severus's untouched beverage with a frown before he said, "Well, she asked me whether I was real, or whether she was dreaming. And not like a joke. She didn't seem to know if she was awake or asleep. I assured her she was awake, but this seemed to puzzle her even more. I know that lack of sleep can do strange things to the mind, but she didn't look that bad. She'd have more physical signs, wouldn't she, before she started asking questions like that? I'm no Healer, but it was really unsettling. I had half a mind to call in Madam Potter to examine her, but I knew you wouldn't want that, and Rabastan was watching us."

"Watching you?"

"Yeah, from the window. Even when he wasn't with us, he was watching us. A very…careful caretaker."

Severus hummed, finally picking up his coffee, pressing the warm cup to his lips. Narcissa had not been so tightly watchful of her charge while Harry and Catherine were in France. She stayed aware of Catherine, but she didn't watch her all the time. And the question….

Yes, Catherine's mind was fragile. More fragile than perhaps anyone else in Severus's acquaintance, as her mother had training in Occlumency, now. The idea had been bandied about when Catherine was recovering, after she was healthy enough to expand her business and consider children, but she'd become pregnant with Cynthia before a decision could be reached, and by the time she'd given birth to Cecilia and decided not to have more children, she seemed fine. The children had seemed to heal what was left unhealed before, and the matter was quite forgotten.

Now, Severus wondered whether this had been a poor choice. Yes, such a question could be a result of sleeplessness, particularly with the other strains on her emotional state, with the losses she'd lived through. But the question…. There were spells that could cause confusion on waking or dreaming, particularly if used over a long period of time. But there was no reason to use such spells on Catherine. Severus could think of no good reason, no therapeutic reason, for Rabastan to be doing these things.

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, and it seemed Cedric had much the same thought.

"I should check in," he said, frowning. "The trouble is, I'm needed here as well."

Cedric hummed, pulling out a small diary, flipping through.

"Well, you said you're moving tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, heading to Budapest," Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I expect you're joining us."

"Of course. Alastor and I can run the search in Budapest for a day. The question is, could you get the answers you're looking for in a day in England?"

Severus supposed he probably could, particularly if there was nothing wrong. He would have to time things perfectly, arrive when Catherine would not feel someone at the wards, perhaps in the dead of night, perhaps by Floo. If he came while they were sleeping – or trying to sleep, at worst he would say he had a private question for Catherine that couldn't be asked by anyone else, if he was caught. And if he was not, he could see for himself what their life was like when no one was looking.

It was probably nothing, but that question….

"I'll arrange the Portkeys," Cedric said softly. "Just tell me where you want it to drop you."

/-/

Lily's wand dragged across Narcissa's forehead, and she nodded, making a note in her journal about the changes in vitals since the last visit. The false remission was going beautifully, right on schedule, but it was still frustrating to know there was no stopping the relapse on the horizon.

"Any news about Cynthia?" Narcissa asked, as though asking whether the green robes she was wearing washed her out. Simple, conversational, mildly curious.

"They're close," Lily said. "Less than a week, they think. I'm hoping they find her quite soon. I can't imagine what kind of a state she's in, on her own this long."

"If she's been on her own. Oh, don't give me that look. I've not overheard anything. But I've never believed Cynthia would be so foolish to do something like this without an outside influence. Go to a London club, certainly. Go to the Marseille villa, perhaps. But to suddenly start traipsing across Europe? That is not within her character, Lily, as you well know. She is not foolish to that level. Someone must be impacting her behavior, somehow."

Lily quite agreed. It never sat right, the idea Cynthia was wandering alone. She'd always been a highly social creature, loving crowds and large parties, like her mother as a child, or Sirius at school. Sirius would have run across the world with the Marauders, but not alone. Alone, he wouldn't have even strolled to a corner shop.

"I feel tired lately," Narcissa said softly. "I know it's the medications interacting with this stage of the illness, but it's very dull. I couldn't even visit with my grandson the last time he was in the country. Lily, when I go – don't look at me like that – don't allow me to end up like Lucius. I don't want the treatment if it does that."

Lily hesitated. She knew Narcissa was talking about the near-comatose state the treatment induced to prolong life, the characteristic paleness, susceptibility to illness and thus utter seclusion.

"I'll see what I can do."

"And Lily, should I become…not myself, should I look like…. Well, I won't want anyone to see me but you and family. No other Healers. No other visitors. And that's direct family, and Sirius."

"Narcissa, what about Severus?"

"No," Narcissa said, almost snapping, less composed than Lily had ever seen the woman. "No, especially not Severus. If I am in such a condition, Lily, he must not be allowed to see me. Do you quite understand?"

Lily did not quite understand, but she agreed, knowing it would be confusing and devastating to him, being barred from Narcissa at her deathbed. It would be years yet, though, and Lily hoped that if a cure could not be found, at least she might be able to change Narcissa's mind on that one matter. Severus had gone through quite enough without having to suffer that indignity.

"I quite like the idea of cremation, like your granddaughter," Narcissa said with a small smile. "Lucius would have hated it. Still, I suppose I ought to be buried with him, oughtn't I? Do they bury ashes?"

Lily didn't know.

/-/

The room was dark when Severus heard Harry enter, slow steps, soft steps.

"You're going to England."

Not a question. Severus turned over the pen that would be his Portkey back to his quarters, come morning. From there he would plan, and then he would Floo from his office to the Potter Manor in the middle of the night. The key was no one knowing he was in England, or if something were wrong, Rabastan might grow suspicious.

"Have a seat, Harry."

The man did as asked and Severus closed his eyes, able to see so clearly a young man, barely older than a child, standing at the gates to the villa with questioning eyes, wanting to know how he could possibly earn his wife's love back, how he could possibly save his marriage.

"It's probably nothing," Severus said softly. "But with your wife's health, I cannot afford to be dismissive of even the smallest of things."

"You think there's something wrong with Kitty."

"I think," Severus said slowly, choosing his words with as much caution as he could manage, "there is no room for mistakes with her health. I think…she's very tired. But you are also very tired, as is Jason. It is not unusual for her to struggle with sleep, given…everything. But I must be certain, and Rabastan is not a Healer."

Harry said nothing, but unspoken questions filled the air between them like a thick haze of smoke. Severus could see the concerns on the younger man's face, could almost feel his anxiety and pain. Not only had he lost one daughter, the other was still missing, and now his wife could be ill.

Or worse, but Severus didn't even dare think that with Harry in the room. He was not a Legilimens, but he could be quite sensitive to small things, like his mother.

"If she's well, you'll come straight back?" Harry asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course."

"And if she's…not?"

Severus closed his eyes. He'd asked himself that same question a dozen times, depending on what might ail her. Perhaps he would call in Lily to stay with them and oversee her health. Perhaps he would arrange a visit from her father, with all it's remarkable healing powers. Perhaps he would have to stay and care for her himself.

Perhaps he would have to take…more drastic measures, but he didn't want to think of such things, not until he knew what he was dealing with. Severus had done a great many things for Catherine Potter, but he strongly believed he never did anything on her behalf that was not completely justified by the things ailing her, by the situations she was in. The punishment always fit the crime, as far as he was concerned, and he would never be convinced otherwise.

"We will see," Severus said softly. "It will depend on the circumstances. If I do not return as scheduled…."

"We'll manage here," Harry said earnestly. "Cedric and Moody are well enough, compared with Jason and me. They'll be able to handle the dispassionate plotting. And we're close, really close. We'll call if we need you, but…I think we'll find her in Budapest."

"If you do not, you know what to do," Severus said with a curl of the lips, not quite a smile, but perhaps something like it. "I have no doubt you will find your daughter in a matter of days at most, Harry. Let's do a small deal, shall we? While I'm away, you worry about Cynthia for the both of us, and allow me to worry about Catherine equally."

Harry hesitated, obviously struggling with the idea of letting go of the worry for his wife, even for a day, but he nodded slowly, saying he promised he would, and Severus continued to think of what to do should his fears be somehow founded.

/-/

The castle was in the still hours, and James thought he heard something as he passed Severus's quarters. He paused, frowning, thinking perhaps a student had broken in and was causing trouble. It seemed unlikely, given the strength of Severus's wards, but with a large number of Sirius's grandchildren still at the school, nothing was impossible.

Wand out and careful, James raised the wards just enough to fling the door open and catch whoever it was in the act.

"Severus?" he said, astonished to see the man before him when he thought he was still on the continent.

"Oh, get in here, you stupid man," Severus snapped, rolling his eyes as James came in, startled, closing the door behind him. "Why are you disturbing my quarters?"

"I heard someone inside as I was passing," James said, narrowing his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I have some things I need to see to, but as you can probably ascertain, I thought it best no one knew I was in the country. Sirius alone won't take well, will pester me all day." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do I have to alter your memory, or are you prepared to pretend you haven't seen me?"

James considered the question, looking around the room, frowning. He was a good liar, had even become a great one recently, but lying to Sirius about something that might have a bearing in the search for their granddaughter? It was hard enough, just withholding information when Sirius knew what was happening and why.

"Better alter it," James said with a sigh. "But before you do, can you tell me what you're here for, since I won't remember when I leave this room?"

Severus's expression was unreadable, and he slowly pulled out his wand and said, "I'm here because I need to check on Catherine's health, for my own peace of mind. I need to be certain a lack of sleep is the only thing that's plaguing her, and if it's not, to figure out a way to fix things. We're not going to converse, because it's harder to erase the longer this goes. I hope you never need worry about what I may or may not have to do in twenty-four hours. _Obliviate_."

 **A/N: So, Narcissa is thinking ahead, Severus decides he needs to be certain, and James makes a difficult choice.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think Severus is going to do when he finds out?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will the mind effect on Catherine prove more effective than the dream world? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: I think either one alone would have a similar affect, but I think that by layering the two together, he was able to achieve better results. But he still can't get what he wants with the levels of magic he's using, and maybe not with any level of magic. As Slughorn told us, one can't manufacture love. Just ask Merope Gaunt.**

 **Q: Will Rabastan try and manipulate people like Lily if he is caught? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Interesting question. I think it really depends on how he's caught. If he has some manner of prior warning, or a bit of time to react, he might try something. But he's not the type to hold his hands up to his fate, either. He's always looking for an advantage. It's just a question of whether he'll have any possible advantage when he's caught out.**

 **Q: Will Rabastan be able to get Catherine to do whatever he wants? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Short-term, yes. He can get her to do practically anything. But she does fight back a bit, so in the long run, it won't keep working. And what he can't have is the one thing he really wants: for her to love him.**

 **Q: Does Cynthia prefer men or women? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: A great question. Catherine definitely doesn't have a preference, but she loves Harry, so that's kind of her preference by default. Cynthia enjoys both, but if she had to choose, she would definitely prefer women. Note she doesn't ever go out of her way to sleep with men the way she does sometimes with a girl that catches her eye.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	32. Just a Wish

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Getting close now! Excited to get all y'alls thoughts!**

 **-C**

 _She is dancing away from you now. She was just a wish. – Gypsy, Fleetwood Mac (Justin Hayward)_

The city of Budapest was lovely, and Jason felt it would be lovelier if he weren't so on edge, so desperate to find his niece here. In theory, Severus would not be back to meet them for twenty-four hours, so even if they found her in that time, they wouldn't be able to take her away from the city. Likely, whatever state they found her in, she wouldn't be ready to be moved, anyway.

"Where do we start?" Harry asked wearily, looking around the city center, the people passing by.

"Hotels," Moody said darkly. "It's become a pattern now. See cab companies about how she got from place to place, and canvas hotels in walking distance to the train station."

"I'll talk to the station management," Cedric said sharply. "See if we can't get some footage with her on it. I think Jason should check hotels, see what he can feel. Scorpius and Harry could check with the taxis?"

"No, I'll go with Jason," Harry said firmly. Cedric and Moody exchanged a glance, but neither argued. The hotels had proved the best lead each time, and no one could tell him he couldn't go after the very best lead on his daughter. They took their assignments and split, Jason grabbing a few tourist brochures on the way out, to give an idea of local hotels and hostels.

"Severus is checking in on Kitty, isn't he?" Jason asked, looking at the street signs to orient himself with the map.

"He says it's probably nothing, but I don't know I believe him. We've agreed I'm not to worry about it, though."

Jason took that as a hint not to mention it further, but he was worried about Catherine. It was impossible for him to untangle what was his sister and what was his niece, but he had a hard time believing the strain on his psyche was from one alone. And he was increasingly of the belief that Catherine was not simply tired. He'd not asked Cedric – he knew he wasn't supposed to – but he had a feeling whatever happened while Cedric was in England had precipitated the concern for Catherine, along with what Jason had told him about his increasing concerns.

"Bet you miss Laura to bits," Harry said darkly as they approach a hotel up the road.

Translation: Harry missed Catherine to bits.

"I do," Jason said with a sigh. "When this is over, I'm going to talk her into putting the clinic with the assistants for a week and I'm going to take her somewhere for a while, anywhere. Or at the least, lock ourselves away at the house for that week. I can't imagine what it's been like for her, being alone during all this, only getting the bits of news trickled back to England. At the corner up here, there's two. Shall we split, or do them one by one?"

"Best stay together," Harry said darkly. "Doesn't do much good if you're not there, does it?"

Jason wished it weren't all down to him. He was terribly tired. But he agreed.

/-/

Damon loved his children, and his wife, but his mother-in-law's days off babysitting were usually a sort of controlled chaos. Loosely controlled.

Caroline was around, and she could keep the children largely in check, not in the same way as her mother, but by being a formidable presence, a buck-stops-here sort of person, who made quite a point of things being precisely the way they were supposed to be, with no excuses for poor behavior. The twins, in particular, gained quite a bit from their mother's presence, and Damon couldn't imagine what kind of trouble they'd cause their grandfather when they went to Hogwarts in two years.

"Dad?"

Xanthia looked up from the chess match they were sharing in a quiet corner. Valary was peeking in, frowning at them.

"Yes, Val?"

"Mum says you aren't…aren't allowed to give Tresha sweets before dinner anymore."

Damon blinked, puzzled. He'd not given anyone sweets before dinner, and certainly not Tresha. She was difficult enough without sweets.

"One moment, love," he said to Xanthia, who was frowning, confused. "Something is not quite right. We'll finish in a moment. Val," he said with a small grin and a wink, "hold the fort, will you? Keep each other honest, don't let a thing move on this board until I'm back."

It was a credit to Xanthia that she didn't protest her trustworthiness as he went out to find his wife and figure out the root of the problem. But he had a feeling there were twin roots, their names beginning with m's.

"What's this about sweets?" he asked Caroline when he found her in the kitchen, overseeing a few last-minute changes to the menu for the night. "Caro, I didn't give any of them sweets, and certainly not Tresha."

Her eyes narrowed and she said, "Twins, then?"

"I expect," he said, fighting his grin. "Don't be too hard on them, darling. It's something you might have done. I have a chess match to lose to Xanthia. Need anything from me before dinner?"

She shook her head, and he paused before leaving her again. He could see the heaviness in her shoulders, the tiredness in her eyes, and he hoped the mess with Cynthia would be resolved soon. It took its toll on everyone in the family, but if Caroline was this bad, he didn't want to think about how stressed and devastated the rest of them were.

"Now," he told his daughter brightly as he settled in his seat again. "Board where I left it?"

"Of course," Xanthia said with a good-natured sniff.

He gave Valary an exaggerated raising of the eyebrows, and she affirmed that her sister did not cheat in his absence. He waved Xanthia on to complete her turn, and he waited for the inevitable loss to his dear daughter, Valary opting to stay and watch.

/-/

Harry looked around the room and frowned at the space that had housed his daughter for a couple of days. He wondered what the life was like, in this room, with the poltergeist-being sucking up all her emotions.

"It's much weaker," Jason said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the floor. The hotel manager recognized the photograph, and it was plain to see that Harry was her father just from the resemblance, so he took them up, as the room was unoccupied. "But it's definitely here. She was definitely here. We're so close, Harry. I know we must be. D'you reckon they've got anything at the train station?"

Harry certainly hoped so, rubbing the back of his neck as he crossed to the window. A beautiful city, the kind of place he wished he could have taken his family, if Catherine would have ever taken enough time off work for a proper holiday. She hadn't done since the girls were small. He hadn't minded much, just figured he'd talk her into it next year. Or the next year. Or the one after that.

Now, it was too late.

"She's not here now," Harry said heavily. "So, she had to leave by some way. Train station's been the way thus far, and I can't imagine she's changed. Jason, what are we going to do when we find her? Take her to France? She won't be ready to go home right away. Will she?"

"Doubtful," Jason said, scratching his chin. Harry could hear some unspoken concern in Jason's voice, but it was impossible to tell exactly what was there without asking, and he couldn't ask.

He'd promised Severus.

"Best get them in here, then," Harry said softly. "You go. I'll stay here."

Jason nodded, leaving Harry alone to run his hands along the curtains and close his eyes. He could almost smell her, although he knew it was his imagination. He could almost smell the sweet, floral lotion she wore, feel her thin body as he wrapped her in a hug, her soft curls tickling his face. How simple it was, to feel her, as though she stood before him, like after the funeral. How he wanted to squeeze her and tell her a million times over how he loved her, but he didn't want her to worry too much about the weight that might put on her.

Harry wished he'd not left her alone, that he'd insisted they go through old photo albums or eat sweets. Something. Anything that could have put off this disaster they'd found themselves in. Even one day could have made all the difference in the world.

He pressed his face to the windowpane and frowned at the street below, wondering if she ever looked through this same pane of glass and thought of him, thought of things she could have done differently and ways she could go home. He hoped she understood, there would always be a way home.

/-/

Cynthia shivered as she pulled her sheets around her, staring at the hotel ceiling. She'd just come back from quick grocery shopping, and she thought about taking another tablet, but decided against it. Instead, she rolled over, curled up, and tried to think of what she would do from here.

In theory, she could stay in Rome, keep on and she'd been, make a small life here as she'd been living. It maybe wasn't quite ideal, but she liked the idea of putting down roots. On the other hand, it went against moving every couple of days, as she and Rhiannon had agreed was best.

A small stab of melancholy at the thought of Rhiannon.

Well, she could stay put, wait for whoever was looking to find her. Probably her father she thought with a small, bitter smile. She wondered what would become of her if she did stay put, if her father came here, saw what she'd been doing with herself. She didn't quite feel sad, but she could feel a tear trickle down her cheek, down the side of her face, could hear it hit the pillow with its own small force.

What would he think of her?

She could only imagine how disappointed he would be. Her father was a dignified man, a kind and giving man from an old, wealthy family. And her mother was a graceful, glamorous woman from an even older, almost equally wealthy family, two of the wealthiest and most respected people in Britain. And here was their only surviving daughter, whoring herself across Europe.

She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing she couldn't stay in Rome, anyway. She'd have to learn Italian, and she just didn't have the time, at present.

Perhaps Morocco. They spoke French in Morocco, she'd heard.

Of course, there would be no going back to Hogwarts, not so far into term. The Head Girl vanished. What had they told the students? Where did everyone think she was?

She thought of her cousins, for the first time, particularly poor Gareth. She wondered what his life was, now, oldest of her cousins. Because eventually they'd give up on her. It was for the best, really, given everything she'd done, now. All for the best.

And then she thought of Columbine.

Her dearest, best friend. Cynthia had just abandoned her, without a word. They'd promised to do everything together, to share everything. They'd talked of getting a place together, after school, striking out on their own together. Cynthia had forgotten how attached she'd been to those plans, to that dream. They would have built a beautiful life, a lovely future, somehow. She'd never thought about when they would stop having a life together. Just seeing it unfolding forward forever.

And now…

"God, what have I done?" she choked out, pressing her face into the pillow. "What have I done?"

She realized, perhaps too late now, how important that future was to her. She only wondered why she hadn't thought of it when she came home from the funeral, why she hadn't at least asked her best friend to go with her. Columbine wouldn't have minded any mood Cynthia was in, wouldn't have judged a thing. Then she might never have met Rhiannon, would never have gone running across Europe with her. And even if she had, even if Columbine had come with them, she wouldn't be alone, now. It would be much, much better, not being alone.

A small part of her thought of the hopelessness, and the idea of ending everything seemed to tease across her mind, but it was only a wisp over a raging sea. If she died, she would have to look her sister in the eye and account for her actions, and she wasn't ready for that, not yet. Cecilia's death was a terrible accident, one of those things, nobody's fault. But what would she think if her sister joined her because she was too weak to live?

No, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't be that kind of coward.

Cynthia rubbed her eyes, crawling out of bed and staring at the bottle of wine. She knew no one in her family, her mother's generation and up, drank. Except her father's parents. They both drank, although only when no one else was with them. No one else from Cynthia's family. Maybe there was something to be said for that, although she couldn't imagine what the lack of alcohol would have changed. She would have gone to the club, regardless. She probably would have met and gone with Rhiannon regardless. Would anything have changed?

Perhaps. She wouldn't have been drunk out of her mind when she met Rhiannon. She doubted it would have changed her attraction to the woman, her willingness to go away and be with Rhiannon. But maybe it would have changed some of her behavior along the way. She thought of how the tablet and alcohol led to the debauchery and what she supposed could only be termed as prostitution. She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"I want to go home," she whispered, knowing she meant the words with every core and fiber of her being, but knowing at the same time how impossible it was. She'd let go of Columbine, let go of her parents, let go of her cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. She'd let go of her teachers, her classmates, all those younger students who looked up to her for the way she'd treated them.

What could she possibly say, now, going home? How could she look any of those people in the eye? She couldn't even stand the thought of facing her sister, in death. How could she face the living?

No, Cynthia grabbed the pen and tablet from the side table, pulled out her wand to make the pen a quill – something she'd missed in her time living as a Muggle – and she began to plot out places she could go, and how she would get there, what she would have to do before she left, and other such logistics.

/-/

Cara greeted Sirius when he came home that night with a kiss, and he kissed her back eagerly.

"I've got a good feeling," he said happily. "By the end of the week, darling, she's going to be home. I can feel it."

Cara wished she could believe so wholeheartedly, wished she had that same sureness in Cynthia's return. She wanted to see her granddaughter, and would have happily gone anywhere just to see her, to know she was alive and well and safe. She knew they were supposed to be getting quite close, knew they were on her tail, and Cara hoped it meant they knew she was alive and well and safe, and not something else.

"Well, that would be absolutely lovely," she told her husband earnestly. "Tea?"

"Yeah, go on, then. Put an extra sugar in, will you, love?"

She did as asked, and brought it to him in the sitting room, watching him rub his chin and smile absently. She didn't know what gave him this idea, what brought him the idea their granddaughter would be home so soon, but she hoped he wasn't wrong. She couldn't imagine what kind of depression he would spiral into, to have such hope had then see it dashed.

"Narcissa invited us to visit on Saturday evening," Cara said softly. "She's still in remission, and Lily said it's a good time to visit, because as soon as the remission ends, we'll be lucky to hit a day when she'll feel able to have visitors."

"Yeah, of course," Sirius said, his smile falling away instantly. "Cissy's always been one of the best women I've known. And I must say, I've had the privilege of being acquainted with many fine women. You know how I adore her." Cara nodded. "It's probably for the best, though, that Lucius went first. I can't imagine there was any way he'd handle her deteriorating like this. I didn't always like him, but he adored her, of course."

Cara hummed, settling in her husband's lap and feeling his arms wrapping around her, resting his tea on her lap. She caressed his cheek, wondering how different their lives would have been, had they been allowed to live separate from their family heritage, had he never had to join the Death Eaters, rejoin his family, make nice with parents and cousins and siblings and then do all those things he needed to go home. She supposed their life would have been different, but she wasn't sure, looking back, that it would have been any better. Their lives had been so enriched by Narcissa, Severus, Rabastan, and the children of those people, she couldn't begin to think better was the right word.

"We'd better go together," she said, smiling as she pressed her head to his. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Or I without you, Cat," he said, smiling back. "Never you doubt it."

 **A/N: So, they've followed her trail in Budapest, Sirius has high hopes back home, and Cynthia begins to feel the weight of her choices and consider her options. Just a small thing – I'll be travelling starting Friday, through to the next Sunday night (over a week), but I WILL update. Even if I have to update Friday afternoon and the Monday morning, there will be two updates in that period. And if y'all review up a storm, I may be posting the prequel series.** **We're getting so close, here. In the next chapter, Severus discovers Catherine's true condition. Want to read it before next weekend? Review, review, review!**

 **Review Prompt: How do you suppose they'll try to deal with Jason's bond in future, to avoid ruining his health every time something happens to Kitty or Cyn?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Would Rhiannon try and kill them if they tried to stop her, or would she accept they have been caught? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: If it had come down to it, she would have let go. She can always find another food source, although Cynthia was a very rich source of grief and self-doubt. But Rhiannon felt she was helping Cynthia just as much as she was helping herself. Cynthia didn't have to feel her negative emotions, and Rhiannon could feast.**

 **Q: If Rabastan gets caught, will he give up easy? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Here's the thing with Rabastan – he's slippery. If he can see a hole to wriggle out through, he'll take it. But he also knows his limits. Don't think Captain Kirk or Robin Hood – he's not going to swashbuckle and duel his way out. He's going to think his way out, talk his way out, if there's any way out at all.**

 **Q: Will Rhiannon realize Cynthia is having more thoughts of wanting to leave? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Obviously, this was asked while Rhiannon was still around. And Rhiannon absolutely did know. This was when she decided her food source was up – when Cynthia started thinking more about the future than the past. When Cynthia starts making plans for her life, she's moved past any lingering grief, and there's no food left. When it seemed like Rhiannon could read Cynthia's thoughts, that's because she could sense her moods. Not read her thoughts like Legilimency, but she had a sense of what she thought about, how she felt.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	33. In the Shadows

**A/N: Here's Bonus One for this week! Y'all have time to earn more, for sure, before I leave for my trip, and I'll try to stay up-to-date while I travel. Five more chapters!**

 **-C**

 _Run in the shadows. Damn your love, damn your lies. – The Chain, Fleetwood Mac_

Severus came out of the Floo at the sitting room, creeping forward, taking a deep breath and pulling out his wand. The dogs were not in the house proper, which was something. They liked him, and thus would not cause problems for him out of protectiveness, but they might wake Rabastan or Catherine.

The question was, how to find out what was wrong without waking her? He crept across to the master, a room he'd rarely been in except when Catherine had been less than healthy and asked specifically for him. It had happened more times than he would have expected when she was a child, but less than he might have thought when she moved in to this house. Mostly to do with pregnancy. Using his wand, he soundlessly opened the door to the master and held his breath, narrowing his eyes, performing a charm to deepen sleep so he could conduct tests without her waking.

And then he entered.

And then he felt his stomach drop, and he thought of her husband, and what he would think had he come home to see this.

Because Rabastan was in bed beside her, both clearly unclothed, his arms around her.

Severus might have thought of an affair first thing, but the question she'd asked Cedric, the not knowing if she was awake or in a dream….

And Rabastan knew, as well as anyone, how easily Catherine had been victimized before by clever, selfish people. He knew the weaknesses of her mind. This had to be sorted, but…not here.

Licking his lips, Severus increased the strength of the Charm, and then crossed to the intertwined couple, carefully separating them before he grabbed Rabastan's wrist and Disapparated them to the first place he could think – his largely unused childhood home at Spinner's End.

Severus took a leaf out of Sirius's book, taking one of the kitchen chairs, binding Rabastan to it, taking his wand, stowing it before he found his old Potions stores. He couldn't brew from scratch, but some potions had very long lives….

A small measure of Veritaserum, and it appear to be spoiled, perhaps many years gone. It was probably a holdover from the war, he thought bitterly. Just as this house was a holdover from the war, a different world, a different life.

But certain things were not forgotten, and he resolved to do whatever necessary to get the truth out of Rabastan, because without the truth, there was no moving forward. And he would not abandon Catherine, not condemn her to whatever might have happened, and he would not allow Harry to find his daughter and lose his wife.

He took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen, pulling a series of knives out, sharpening them, and then waking Rabastan.

The other man blinked, befuddled, looking around the grimy kitchen with a fuzzy gaze. His eyes fixed on Severus and he smiled, puzzled.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter," Severus said softly.

"What am I doing here, then?" he asked, moving to sit forward and momentarily startled by the binding. "And why have you restrained me?"

"That's what we're going to discuss, Rabastan," Severus said softly. "Why were you in Catherine's bed?"

Rabastan stared back, wordlessly, defiantly. Perhaps he was trying to decide how much Severus knew, perhaps trying to think how to salvage the situation.

"So, you sent Diggory to spy on us, did you?" Rabastan said softly. "Was Potter so worried he'd lost her love?"

"Harry's concern is focused on his daughter," Severus said, picking up a knife and testing the point cautiously on his thumb. "He is a good father, a loyal husband. He adores his wife."

"And yet you find me in her bed."

"Don't," Severus seethed. "Don't you dare try to suggest she chose this of her own free will, Rabastan. I know Catherine, and I know her inside and out, and whatever problems they've had, she adores Harry right back. If he told her he wanted to move, she'd move. If he said he wanted her to end her relationship with Ryana, she'd end it. If he wanted to go back to work, she'd support and encourage him. She loves him."

Rabastan simply smirked back, and Severus thought about the knives, but he knew Rabastan would not blink. Severus thought of the Cruciatus Curse, but they'd been put through that plenty of times during the war, and Rabastan had always handled it without much difficulty. Severus had long suspected Rabastan's father had used it as a disciplinary measure with more than just his illegitimate daughter.

But there was one thing he knew Rabastan wouldn't be able to withstand, at least not well enough to stand up against someone of Severus's skill. He'd never managed to hold the Dark Lord at bay, and Severus had practiced many years since.

Severus raised his wand and Rabastan raised a cool, challenging eyebrow. If Severus hadn't already been certain, the one smooth motion was enough to cement his plan. His lips twitched in anger.

" _Legilimens!_ "

/-/

James awoke with a jerk in the middle of the night, with a horrible sensation he was forgetting something important. He breathed in deeply, rubbing his eyes, trying to think of a way to recall whatever was missing. The harder he tried, the harder it was to retrieve, and he decided if it were truly, deeply important, it would have surfaced already.

He left his quarters and went to Remus's, knocking on the door and waiting for his friend to answer, groggily. Remus grew instantly concerned, but James shook his head and asked if he could come in, he couldn't sleep. Remus glanced at the clock and said sure, if he felt it would help.

It was a mark of all their years of friendship, Remus didn't turn him away or ask what it was James thought Remus could do.

/-/

Severus was assaulted with a rush of memories, both of what had been done to Catherine – the spells used, the lies told, the abusing a confused woman with manipulations and eventually Unforgivable Curses – but also connected memories from a childhood long past, an adolescence of sneaking down to Cara Selwyn's cellar, creating a fantasy world with his half-sister, manipulating her into a physical relationship and then wiping her memory when he learned of what Bellatrix had planned for her.

The only remnant was a name she thought was hers upon waking – Catherine. The name of the lie, the name of Sirius's beloved daughter, a name associated with so much so important to Sirius and Cara, and it was all part of a manipulation Cara could never remember. The memory wasn't just wiped, but forcibly cut from her mind, never to return. She would never know what was done to her, but Severus did now.

He looked at Rabastan's face, astonished. Even in the pureblood world, a half-sister would have been an impossible marriage, and Rabastan would have resolved himself to that. He knew he could never truly had Cara. But when Catherine was matured, and looked just like her mother, with the name they had used in the cellar…. Severus felt nauseous as he realized what Rabastan had truly done to her. Particularly disgusting was manipulating her into referring to him as "daddy" during sex, something Rabastan clearly enjoyed because of some bizarre hatred of Sirius, hidden so well for all these years.

A perfect Slytherin.

"You disgust me," Severus said softly. "She is your niece."

"A half-niece," Rabastan said lazily, leaning his head back against the chair. "Illegitimate. The law doesn't even recognize us as related. There's nothing illegal about having her."

"No, just how you did it," Severus snapped. "You were supposed to care for her in her hour of need because Narcissa was too ill, and you have brutally betrayed her, betrayed everyone who stuck their neck out for you."

"She would love me, eventually."

Severus shook his head. The one thing he truly believed was no manipulation would change how she felt about Harry. As soon as Harry came home, Rabastan's most carefully laid plans would begin to unravel, and at best she would spurn him, despite the manipulations. At worst, she might lose her mind completely.

"It isn't love if you have to use spells to keep her, Rabastan," Severus said softly. "And the simple fact you feel it's necessary to hide should tell you it never should have happened."

Rabastan laughed, and Severus fought the urge to hit him.

"Says the man who lived in shadows for quite some time," Rabastan said with a smirk. "So, your little band of Horcrux hunters never should have happened? No, don't be high and mighty with me, Severus. You want this, too. You've imagined doing the same things. Tell me you wouldn't have been tempted in my shoes."

The man kept smiling, and Severus felt a large rush of vicious anger. Was Catherine beautiful? Of course. Charming? Absolutely. And it would be a lie to suggest he'd never had a moment of errant fantasy, particularly when he'd been doing medical examinations and seen more of her body than was typical. A natural biological response, and not at all what Rabastan was suggesting.

"You know nothing of my temptations," Severus said softly, thinking of Narcissa, "my desires. And I would never lay a hand on any _vulnerable_ woman."

Again, Rabastan laughed, his teeth bared slightly in the grin. He leaned forward against the binding.

"The Gryffindor in you," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "How appropriate that you've served as a lapdog for my beloved sister and her progeny. Tell me, is her lap as sweet as I remember?"

Severus did not think, did not even feel. His wand was raised before he realized his arm had moved, and the words were out of his mouth before he thought he must do something.

And before Severus could comprehend what spell he'd done, Rabastan was dead.

/-/

In the morning, after Severus's Portkey was due, they would be discussing possibilities. It was looking like Italy, probably Rome, but Jason was annoyed with the lack of clarity on the matter. The train station was not as helpful as the search would have hoped, and they were trying to find a way to enhance and clarify the images without distorting. If Severus returned on schedule, he would be consulted and they would determine what to do next.

If not, Jason had a strong feeling they would head straight for Rome and work from there.

Everything seemed calm as he stared out at the Budapest sky. Catherine seemed to be sleeping. Cynthia seemed to be sleeping, or at least calm. Jason felt peaceful as he watched the moon, as he thought of his niece and his sister, of his father. Bringing her home, it would help everything, he was certain. Cynthia would heal faster, his sister would be less restless, and his father would experience such relief and happiness. Everyone's lives would be able to slowly return to normal. Very slowly.

Harry stirred on the bed, and Jason held his eyes, frowning slightly. His children, Caroline's children, they were certainly confused and concerned, and it would not be easy to help them find peace again, especially as it wouldn't be possible to give a full account of what had happened with Cynthia while she was gone. Particularly for Caroline's younger children. Somehow, they would have to tell them something. Jason just hoped he didn't have to be the one to decide what and how to tell them.

He would leave that to Caroline and Laura. Between them, they should come up with something reasonable.

/-/

Delia's blood ran cold as she felt the wards being touched, and she grabbed her wand, stalking down to the front door, out to the gate, and she relaxed only marginally to see Severus Snape's familiar face. He was supposed to be on the continent, looking for Cynthia Potter. That he was here and she'd not heard any news of the girl being found, it could not mean anything good for Delia.

"I have some…unfortunate news," he said softly. "Adra is inside?" Delia nodded. "I know it is late and cold, but perhaps it is better if we talk out here. It is…about your husband."

Her stomach sank and she looked away from him, biting down on her lip in the unseemly nervous gesture she had not done since childhood. She knew something terrible would happen when he went to nursemaid Catherine while her husband was away.

"I'm afraid he's…dead."

"Is he indeed?" Delia said, her voice sounding horribly calm and uninterested. Her insides did not feel either, but somehow this was how she sounded. "Did you kill him, or did Catherine?"

Severus tensed beside her, and she looked up at him, her whole body tense, but not upset. It was so strange, not being upset to hear Rabastan was dead. She'd spent decades loving him, and when she learned what he was, she'd spent decades wondering what to do, and now she stood here more concerned about how they would explain this away than about losing him. She had her children and grandchildren to think of. She did not want them to suffer for their father's perversion.

"You knew," Severus said softly, eyes widening. "You knew your husband lusted after his niece."

"And his sister, yes," Delia said with a sigh. "For quite a few years, now. But what was I supposed to do, Severus? He'd never done anything. And he's always been a man of impeccable self-control. Although, when Cynthia went missing and Narcissa was too ill to watch over Catherine I did…wonder whether he didn't…arrange it."

"How do you mean?"

"I checked the cellar for the girl, just in case. No sign of her, dead or alive."

Severus frowned, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. Then he said softly, "The cellar. Delia, show me the cellar."

"Why?"

"Because Ryana Cotton rather inexplicably disappeared not long after Rabastan moved in, and if it was after you checked the cellar…"

They hurried inside, but quietly. They went down to the cellar together, Delia lighting the way, Severus using his wand to check for a human, dead or alive.

Dead was the final option, and Delia held her breath as he examined the body.

"Murdered," Severus said with a sigh, turning over the decomposing body. "Painless, at least. Well, the question is now, what is to be done?"

Delia sat on the steps down the cellar and frowned at the body.

"Can you get rid of it?" Delia asked softly. "Make it look…like she had an accident?"

"Easily," Severus said, rubbing his eyebrows. "A fall while hiking. Give animals time to disturb the body. There will be no trace of the curse he used. And the timing would match up perfectly. I can do it tonight. It might take time for her to be found and the word to get back to the Potters, but that is the simple matter. What about your husband?"

"He's missing," Delia said stiffly. "I don't know where he's gone. They'll never find him, will they?"

"They certainly won't," Severus said, sneering. "I've disappeared more than a few bodies in my time. Nothing left to find."

"And Catherine?" Delia asked, not wanting to know what Rabastan had done to her to prompt Severus to take such final action, but she could guess the basics. "He's been there quite a while now, Severus. I can only imagine the damage he's done. For her sake, and for my family's sake, and perhaps especially for her husband's sake…. You can't leave her as he's left her."

"No, I can't," Severus agreed, rubbing his eyes. "I'll be going back to Potter Manor as soon as I've taken care of the bodies. I should easily be back before she wakes. It will be a long, painful, difficult process, but I can remove the memories entirely. I might even be able to manipulate her mind to replace those memories with reasonable false ones. That would be dangerous, perhaps, with the obvious fragility of her mind. Gaps in memory are a fairly reasonable result of trauma and grief, however, and I believe I can explain them away, cause minimal damage."

Delia nodded, resting her head on the cool stone wall, ignoring the stench of the Cotton woman's decaying body. A manifestation of the vicious possessiveness of her husband's lust and obsession.

"I expect she fought him, in her way, or you wouldn't be here," Delia said sadly. "I used to sniff off Rabastan's insistence his sister and his niece had been through quite enough, that they needed to be handled carefully. But he was right, they've suffered quite enough. I just didn't realize it was him they needed to be spared from him. You and I will be the only ones to know, won't we?"

"As it should be," Severus said, conjuring a bag to wrap over the corpse. "If anyone asks, your nighttime visitor was your husband. Brontes is at the castle?" Delia nodded that he'd gone to visit his wife. "Tell him, and Adra, how lovely it was to see Rabastan after so long with him at Potter Manor, what a lovely thing that Catherine must be sleeping better. He left here at…quarter to one. As far as anyone knows, he simply never made it back to Nottinghamshire. And we never say a word differently to anyone."

Delia nodded, but she knew he wasn't convinced. She'd been known, occasionally, to have loose lips, although those things did not affect her, not really. This was all about her, now even more than it was about her husband.

"What will it take to put you at ease?" she asked softly.

"Unbreakable Vow," he said darkly.

Her chest tightened at the suggestion, but she slowly nodded and held out her wand arm. Typically, it required a third party, but they counted on Severus's strength of ability to complete the Vow without the customary third party.

It was dangerous, but so was the whole damn thing.

 **A/N: So, Severus uncovers the whole truth, Rabastan is dead, and Delia goes all in for the plan of ending the mess her husband created.**

 **Review Prompt: How's Severus planning on putting Catherine together again?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan have to keep on playing with Catherine's mind to convince her to keep on coming back to him once Harry returns? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Obviously, this point is moot now, but had this been an eventuality, Rabastan absolutely would have to had messed with her mind on a consistent basis, and even that would have crumbled with prolonged exposure to the spells and the love of her husband.**

 **Q: Will Rhiannon's disappearance be explained? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: No more than it already has been, really. Essentially, Rhiannon was feeding off certain emotional outputs. When those dried up, she left.**

 **Q: Did you have any relationships that you altered while writing this story that you didn't plan from the start? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: That's a very interesting question, actually. I think a lot of the relationship layout that exists now I hadn't imagined when I started the series. But really, the only one that nipped me while I was writing Part 3 that didn't exist when I started was Gareth and Coreen. Which may be evident from the way it was sort of slap-dash put into the story. But it was important. There's a lot about a variety of relationships I'm going to build into Part 4, sort of circling around two main ones.**

 **Q: Will we find out where Rhiannon keeps going off to? (TheoJames11)**

 **A: Obviously, she's out of the picture now, but she didn't actually…go anywhere. Remember, she's not strictly corporeal, and she has the ability to not be seen, should she wish. So when she's not going to aid things, she simply…vanishes and watches.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	34. So Afraid

**A/N: Yes, I'm putting this up a day early. This isn't a bonus. I'm travelling and then going to a wedding tomorrow, so I won't have time to put it up tomorrow. So, I'm doing this today!**

 **-C**

 _I never change. I never will. I'm so afraid, the way I feel. – I'm So Afraid, Fleetwood Mac (Lindsey Buckingham)_

Melesina Prewett woke especially early in the morning. She glanced across to where her twin, Melantha, was curled up on the twin bed opposite, and then she crept out of their bedroom, down the corridor, down the main staircase, and into the kitchen through the servant's corridor. She was going to sneak a biscuit, but she was surprised to see her mother sitting by a low fire.

Just as Melesina was going to creep back out, her mother raised a hand to increase the fire, and then waved her hand back over her shoulder to put the kettle on.

"Have a seat," her mother said softly. Not angry, just a suggestion for the girl. Melesina sat, marveling as she always did at her mother's easy wandless magic, something none of the other adults had ever done in front of Melesina. From what she'd read and seen, she wasn't sure any of them could.

Her mother turned and poured them both not tea, but hot chocolate, and used a bit of wandless magic to cool Melesina's to a temperature that wouldn't burn her tongue.

"I used to sneak sweets, too, as a child," her mother said with a sad smile. "I would pester my siblings into daring me or making a bet that I couldn't, and then I'd prove I could do it whenever I wanted. It wasn't until I was a parent that I realized my mother always knew. You can drink it, you know."

Melesina took a long sip of her hot chocolate, enjoying the thick, sweet fluid, warm and pleasant on her tongue. She understood the hint – her mother knew when she and her twin would sneak sweets, and probably other things, as well.

"Mum," she asked, setting down her cup, "is Cyn going to be alright?"

All Melesina knew was Cynthia was very unwell after Cecilia's funeral. Her mother's eyes twitched with pain.

"I hope so."

/-/

Severus used a spell to lift Catherine carefully from her bed and through to the master bath, carefully lowering her into the tub and deepening her sleep with a few charms while he drew a bath. Time was of the essence, so he Apparated downstairs, gathered a few key ingredients and some potions from her lab, and Apparated back upstairs with them, using the bath and the potions to remove any soreness or trauma from what she and Rabastan had done, as well as bathing away any residual reminders of him on her flesh. While the potions worked, he set about cleaning her bedroom and bath of any signs of what had happened, freshening and cleaning and sanitizing.

Removing the physical signs took about two hours, because once he'd left her to soak, he was careful to clean the rest of the house, just in case there were signs elsewhere. Then he took a deep breath and returned to the master bath, looking at Catherine, still charmed in a deep sleep, at this moment unaware the world around her was in such a terrible mess. If he could only keep things so simple for her.

He raised his wand, telling himself this was the right thing to do, the only way to protect her from the consequences of Rabastan's manipulation. It felt like a betrayal, but he had promised himself he would not allow something like this to happen to her again, and yet here they were and he had failed her. He licked his lips and began his Legilimency.

It was a careful, delicate thing. There were so many memories now, of great frequency in the front of her mind, and of decreasing as he went backward. Severus had to focus not only on chronological memory, but also on dreams and daydreams, things her memory did not understand as memory. This was more difficult to remove, and he couldn't be certain there would not be some lingering effect from the removal, but he did his best to push related dream residue to the depths of her mind, where it would not be easily accessed in the waking world.

It was exhausting, for himself and for Catherine's mind, and he knew she would sleep through the day if he let her. He had to catch his breath when he finished checking his work, and he laid down on the bathroom floor and considered how he would deal with the consequences, how he would break this news, explain his presence, manage the situation.

He'd spent almost three hours inside her head, and it was nearly lunchtime. He decided the best thing to do was to make them both tea and some lunch, and to explain what he had to, the bare minimum, over food. Then he could call in some reinforcements – Narcissa, if she was well again – and return to the continent to continue the search for Cynthia. But first things first.

He had to make sandwiches.

Severus carefully levitated her, draining the tub and using a few spells to dry her off and carefully put her dressing gown snuggly on her body before levitating her to her bed and tucking her in. Then he hurried downstairs to put the kettle on and figure out food. It was helpful, almost therapeutic to do something simple, domestic, basic. He could focus on spreading cucumbers and butter and flaked salmon on bread, because it was what she had, and then pour tea, fix it the way he knew she liked best, and then carefully carry it all upstairs for her, setting it up and taking deep, calming breaths before doing the inevitable and waking her.

/-/

James had yet to remember what he'd forgotten, but Remus told him if it were truly important, he would have remembered by now, and if it was still bothering him when Severus came back from the continent, he could enlist his help.

Perhaps it was James's lack of sleep and sour mood, but Sirius seemed to be in far too good of spirits, considering everything that was happening.

"How's Cate?" James asked rubbing his eyes. He knew Sirius had taken her into Oxford for the day, something she looked forward to every year. Perhaps that was why he was so chipper.

"I'm telling you," Sirius said with a happy, sappy sigh. "I don't know how we've done it all these years. If I could spend every day just being with her…."

"Yes, but you can't," Remus said with a smile. "Caro needs your wife as a babysitter, or she won't be able to have a job. And Caro without a job would probably cause the countryside to be literally split in two with the force of her frustration."

"We could watch them together," Sirius said, unconcerned. "I missed all that with my own children. I would have been rubbish then, but all Caro's kids are past the nappy stage. That's a good starting point. And in, what, six years or so, they'd all be school age and would only need minding occasionally in the summer."

James could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He'd never given credence to the idea of Sirius retiring, especially since Cynthia's disappearance. He'd supposed Sirius was toying with retiring under the erroneous assumption he would care for his daughter instead of Rabastan, if he hadn't had a job in the way. But the longer Sirius considered this, the lighter and happier he seemed, and now James was wondering whether Sirius was, well, serious.

"Erm, one thing," James said, frowning as he counted his friend's grandchildren. "Colly's by herself. Rather down. Where's…Gareth?" He cleared his throat. "Come to that, where's Coreen?"

"They've not done a Brighton, don't worry," Sirius said with a wink. James was too startled by the reference to Harry and Catherine's trip to a Brighton hotel for sex; he didn't laugh. "They were up late. Filch told me he caught them talking and snogging and talking and snogging and so on well past their curfew. His theory is they were in the library and he was walking her back, they lost track of time. No sex tonight."

Remus spluttered, and James knew Remus was wondering, as well, why Filch hadn't given the pair detention. They had a feeling it had something to do with Sirius, or perhaps with the fact Gareth often volunteered his free time to help Filch in low-detention seasons with polishing and mopping and things. The Marauders didn't have such sensitivity, so it would have been detention for them.

Perhaps Filch was simply repaying Gareth's kindness. Weird a thought as that was.

"I think she'll be home soon," Sirius said brightly. "A couple of days, maybe. I really think everything is about to right itself. Remus, would you like to come around for dinner tonight? Cara misses you."

Remus said he'd let him know later in the day, but he would like that very much.

/-/

Catherine groaned as she woke, trying to think why the light in her room was on. Or were the blinds open?

"You don't have to open your eyes right away," a familiar voice said with unusual gentleness.

"Severus," she said, her eyes snapping open, ignoring the pain and disorientation, trying to determine if he was real. For some reason, that didn't seem too unreasonable of a question. She tried to remember why, but she couldn't. "Did you find her? Where's Harry?"

"They're still searching," he said, pressing tea toward her, and she took it without paying any attention to it. "I was here briefly on business, and Delia expressed concern."

"Concern?"

Severus explained to her that while she was asleep, Uncle Rabastan visited his wife, left in the late hours, and was supposed to send her a message when he'd returned to Potter Manor, but he never sent the message. Delia had told Severus it was probably nothing, but would he please check before he returned to the continent.

Catherine licked her lips, puzzled. Why would he just vanish?

"He's staying in the guest room," she said, gesturing vaguely to where the room was.

"His things are there," Severus said softly. "He is not."

She assured him she had no idea where he might be, and began to feel concerned and mildly panicked. She sat up and he shook his head, pressing her hand tenderly.

"We're very close to finding your daughter," he said gently. "It's only a few days. Perhaps Narcissa will be able to stay with you, until we have a better idea of what is going on."

Catherine frowned, puzzled. Surely, he wouldn't put Aunt Narcissa through such strain in her condition.

"I doubt she'll be put to it," Catherine said, frowning. "Don't you know?"

When she told him what was wrong with Narcissa, his eyes widened, and she realized somehow, for some reason, he did not know. He asked if there was anything she needed, told her he'd be back soon, and he left, presumably to check in at Malfoy Manor. Catherine crunched on her toast and wondered why Harry's mother would give him the test materials, have him test himself and the rest of the search, and yet not tell him Narcissa was dying, that Astoria was also, eventually, dying. It didn't make sense to Catherine, until she thought….

Catherine smiled softly to herself as she finally lifted her tea to her lips and though there was a good reason why every date she put Severus on ended in failure, why the machinations of women over decades to find him someone ended almost before they began.

He was in love with Aunt Narcissa, and probably had been for some time. Potentially, Catherine mused, before Lucius died. Of course, he couldn't have pursued her while Lucius was alive, and he certainly had to respect the mourning period. But it had been a decade or more now. The only thing between them was stubbornness and habit.

And now Narcissa was dying.

Catherine's smile melted as she wondered what he would do, what he would say when he was standing in front of Narcissa, facing the reality of her condition and the years they'd wasted. Catherine was instantly reminded how lucky she was, not to have lost Harry all those years ago. She couldn't fathom the loneliness of Severus's existence.

She finished her breakfast, showered, dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen, stretching, and feeling taller than she was before. Somehow, her shoulders seemed less tense, her body relaxed, her mind clear. She wasn't sure why, but she was certain she hadn't felt this way recently, and certainly not as she'd gone to bed the night before. She had a feeling something was missing, inside her head, that there were gaps and missing pieces she couldn't account for. But Catherine knew this was a symptom of grief and stress, and she supposed the pieces could come back, when she had some time to relax and decompress and reflect. When Harry was home and Cynthia was home and things went back to something resembling normal.

Catherine thought of finding her mirror and calling Harry, but if he was so close to finding Cynthia, she didn't want to distract him. Instead, she put her dishes in the sink, put the kettle on, and decided to take the dogs for a walk when Severus came back and told her what the plan was, until things could return to normal or Uncle Rabastan could be found.

A small frown teased at her lips as she thought of the peculiar disappearance of her uncle, in the dead of night. It wasn't like him. He was such a dependable, predictable sort of person. But then, they'd thought that of Cynthia, and she'd disappeared. Different, but she supposed it was possible the strain had got to him, and he'd gone off on his own kind of adventure. After a lifetime of a stiff, formal, almost scripted existence, Catherine supposed she wouldn't begrudge him such a thing.

She just would have liked to know, so she didn't panic.

When the water was ready, she poured herself more tea and went to the great room, lighting the fireplace and settling on the sofa. She watched the wind ripple across the pool and she took deep breaths, wondering vaguely why she was suddenly so serene. She was certain she'd been sleeping poorly, that she'd been wound so tight she might have snapped. But somehow, it was like she'd woken up in a different world, in a different skin, and she felt confident about the search's ability to find Cynthia. She felt recharged, felt refreshed. She was certain Harry would be home soon, and Ryana would return, and she would have a picnic with her father and their families on the grounds. The dogs would play and it would be like when the girls were small again, just a happy, pleasant, peaceful day.

/-/

Cynthia turned on the shower and stepped under the jets, closing her eyes and wishing, desperately wishing she could see another way. If she could be anywhere in the world, she would be in her dormitory at Hogwarts, with Columbine pestering her about how to do her hair for the day. She'd never realized how endearing that pestering was.

Or perhaps she'd be in her own bedroom, curled up with one of the dogs, watching the weather and waiting for her father to bring her a cup of tea, or even hot chocolate. She smiled to herself, remembering how her father would dote on her when she was ill, make her favorite meals and put her favorite films on in the theatre, and they would just enjoy the time when she was too down, too weak to do anything active. Her grandfather visited more often when she was ill, both of them, come to that.

But that was gone, done, over. She couldn't go any of those places again, couldn't be with any of those people again. She could never look them in the eye after everything she'd done.

She glanced at her razor and thought of just ending everything, thought perhaps without Rhiannon she had nothing to look forward to. But Cynthia looked away from it again almost as quickly. Every time she thought of dying, she thought of Cecilia, and there was no one she could face less in her current state than her baby sister. The person who looked up to her, the person who always thought Cynthia was perfect. Cecilia had been the reason Cynthia always strived to be her absolute best, to excel at everything she did.

Now….

Well, she was very good at the game she'd played to get her this far, the sexual con she played, a kind of prostitution involving seducing reluctant strangers. She'd never needed to use a spell. Somehow, it wasn't the same as topping her year and earning a Head Girl badge, but Cynthia would have hazarded a guess she was the best at what she was doing.

She didn't want to be, she realized. She didn't want to live this life anymore. She could do it, certainly, live well, perhaps even live a very comfortable life. But she'd rather find something she could do, perhaps get a little cottage on the outskirts of Rome, or some other, further place, and make her own food, earn her money with something she could make, with or without magic. She could avoid using her body as a commodity. And when she was lonely, she could always go to a club for the night and allow herself to give in to sensation for a night, have her fill, and go back to the cottage without whatever stranger she satisfied herself with, keeping her home a clean, safe, pure space. Since she didn't think she'd ever think of her own body as any of those things again.

 **A/N: So, Severus cleans up Catherine's memory, Catherine spills the beans on Narcissa's illness, and Cynthia and Sirius are both considering life after this mess in their separate ways.**

 **Review Prompt: In the next chapter, we see Narcissa and Severus discussing her condition. Who wants to guess how that goes down? What will Severus say?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Rabastan try to become an Animagus to work out what's wrong with Catherine? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: While he did think it would have been useful, the reason he didn't go to these extremes was that he didn't have that kind of time. Remember, it takes years to accomplish Animagus transformations, and he's full-time babysitting Catherine (and other things with Catherine), and even if worse comes to worst, it's not going to take years to find Cynthia, not with the search party they've assembled.**

 **Q: Who will be more angry at Cynthia – Harry or Catherine? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Okay, much in the way neither the Blacks nor the Potters went into blame game and anger after Catherine and Harry's predicament all those years ago, Harry and Catherine are not angry with Cynthia. Especially after losing their other child, they're just going to be so relieved she's alive and okay, anger won't enter into it. They had good modeling that way, when no one got angry with their mistakes. At most, they faced disappointment. Here, they're going to have to look at their own failures and parenting failures when they examine Cynthia's choices. It's hard to be angry with your child when you can see perfectly reasonable ways you could have helped prevent the whole mess.**

 **Q: Will the connection between Jason, Catherine, and Cynthia ever go away? (Michand)**

 **A: Nope! It's great you brought this up again, because it will be a small feature in Part 4, and it's been a while since we talked about the logistics. When there's not a crisis, Jason's largely unaffected by the connection. But this experience is going to leave its mark on him, and he will definitely struggle with how this impact works, and how to keep from this happening again. He's certainly never going to be able to look at his niece the same again, and his relationship with his sister is changed forever. But Caroline's own journey for emotional control over her condition will be helpful for him as he tries to prepare himself for further catastrophes. Not that there will necessarily be any – he decides it's safe to assume one's coming someday. Given his family history, I'd call that a reasonable assumption.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	35. Pick Up the Pieces

**A/N: So, this is delayed because of my graduate program. Turns out, I can't rely on internet connection during my twice-yearly jaunts to New Hampshire, so bear with me. It won't happen again until January. Consider this your weekly update. As an apology, this week, I'll update for every five reviews instead of every ten.**

 **-C**

 _Did she make you cry, make you break down, shatter your illusions of love? And is it over now? Do you know how to pick up the pieces and go home? – Gold Dust Woman, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

When the search arrived in Rome, without Severus – who was likely detained in England – Jason didn't bother waiting for the others to discuss how they were going to search. He just knew which direction to walk, what hotel to go into. He could only feel the tiniest glimmer of her grief in the walls, but she was here. He knew she had to be here. He let the others follow him, not listening as they asked him what it was, what he felt, how he knew. He simply stood outside the hotel room and stared at the door.

"Cynthia," he whispered, and Harry didn't bother to hesitate. He pulled out his wand, unlocked the door, and opened it, rushing in, wand out, just in case the being with her was still there.

But there was nothing but Cynthia, laying in the hotel bed, tired and thinner than Jason remembered. She was not quite asleep, but dozing, and Jason looked around the room, trying to get a sense of what she'd been up to. He hurried to grab a half-consumed bottle of wine and pour it out, and then examined a powdery tablet, of which there were four on the counter.

Drugs, he realized quickly, and he Vanished them. No sense letting Harry see it. Only after they were gone did Jason think Severus might want to examine them, but he supposed they would figure it out. Her blood chemistry, perhaps. The important thing was to get her out of this hotel, out of this country, somewhere they could keep an eye on her and help her heal.

"Darling?"

Harry was caressing Cynthia's hair when Jason looked up, and she stirred slightly, humming. She was contented, Jason realized. She was relaxing at the sound of her father's voice.

"Cynthia?" Harry said, his voice full of emotion, unshed tears. "Darling, it's me."

"Daddy," she sighed, rolling over slightly, trying to reconcile hearing his voice with the reality she recalled since her running away. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and they widened with shock, shame, horror at the sight of her father. She didn't look at the other men in the room, which was probably for the best. "Daddy," she whimpered, and Harry quickly pulled her into his arms as she began to tremble. "Daddy, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, darling," he said, whispering into her hair. "It's alright. Everything's going to be fine. We're taking you home."

"Home?"

Her voice was small, stunned, perhaps thinking there was no way back after whatever she'd done on her journey. Harry just reiterated those soothing, short ideas, letting her know she was loved, she was safe, she would be going home where everyone was waiting for her, missing her. Slowly, her body began to relax, and she cried into her father's shoulder.

/-/

Coreen licked her lips as she greeted Gareth at lunch. His cheeks went slightly pink when she sat across from him, and she knew he was thinking – as she was thinking – of the night before when Filch caught them snogging in the corridor. It was embarrassing, but before they'd been caught, it had been a wonderful series of sensations. She'd forgotten all the stress of what was going on with her sister and his cousin and everything to do with it. She'd forgotten about her homework and upcoming exams and her projects for her courses. She'd not thought of anything at all except that it was nice to feel his arms around her, pulling her closer, and that it was pleasant to have his lips touch her lips. Why did such simple things as physical contact become so gloriously complex when they were those sensitive strips of skin? She used her lips for all kinds of things, but when they touched his lips, it was like she'd never used them for anything before.

"You look well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck absently.

Mondays were busy days for them, and when they had arrived at Defense Against the Dark Arts after missing breakfast, Professor Lupin had given the pair a knowing look. Filch had likely reported catching them, and Coreen simply felt relieved she'd not been given a detention for missing curfew.

"Potions after lunch," she said awkwardly. "I expect Colly's sleeping the day away. She's not come down for lunch."

"I heard she was at breakfast," Gareth said softly, nodding over to Kenrick, who was at the Ravenclaw table, having a quiet conversation with Sinclair. Coreen hummed and pursed her lips. Gareth poured her some water and she watched the professors converse at the Head Table.

"Professor Black seems pleased today," she said, casually. "I suppose his day out with his wife was a good one."

"Yeah, they went to Oxford for the day," Gareth said, grinning. He adored his grandmother, she knew. Especially as his mother's parents had passed a while back. Madam Black was a wonderful, kind person, much like her son and grandson. "It's Nanna's favorite thing to do, when she gets the time for it. They try to do it once a year. She finds the Muggle life so dazzling, and it's a small city. She lived in London for ages, never wanted to go out into the Muggle part of it. Too busy, too crowded."

"I rather like Muggle London," Coreen said with a shrug.

They lived in different parts of London, the Peakes living closer to the Ministry, so her father could actually walk to work, but it was a relatively quick tube ride between the two houses, and now they were old enough, they were trusted to take it alone. Coreen planned to be visiting him frequently. And perhaps he would visit her. And perhaps, she thought, excited, they might go do something totally different, alone, so she could feel his lips without fear of being caught.

/-/

Catherine was still alone when she got a mirror call from Harry, and she knew.

"Cat?" he said, smiling at her weakly. "Is Severus with you?"

"Not at the moment," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's gone to see Aunt Narcissa. Rabastan's gone missing."

A shadow passed over his eyes, but he nodded. "Someone wants to talk to you."

She held her breath, and she could feel her vision sting and blur as her daughter's face was in the mirror, smiling weakly up at her.

"Cyn, how are you?" she said, her hand shaking as she tried to reach through to touch her little girl. "Have you been eating well? Sleeping? Oh, I miss you, darling."

"I'm okay," Cynthia said nervously. "I'm okay, Mum. I miss you, too. Mum, I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Catherine said eagerly. "Don't you ever be sorry. I…. Darling, everything's going to be fine. When are you and your dad coming home, then?"

Cynthia licked her lips and looked up at someone else, and the mirror was passed back to Harry, who was clearly hugging Cynthia even as he spoke.

"We're going to take her back to Marseille for a few days, do more complete health checks, make sure she's ready first, and then she'll come home. If you're feeling up to it, and your dad, maybe you could come visit her. And if it's the right day, maybe Wednesday, maybe you could bring her friend?"

Columbine, Catherine realized. Columbine didn't have classes until Thursdays. Cynthia might not be well enough for visitors tomorrow, but the day after was possible, Harry was saying, and if her father managed to get a day off….

"I'll see what we can do," she said, making a mental note to ask Severus what they could work out. "Come home soon."

"We will, love." He sighed. "Jason and I are taking her to Marseille. Moody's coming with us. Scorpius and Cedric are going back to England, smoothing things over."

"Where are you?" she asked, tucking the wayward strand of hair back behind her ear with a still-trembling hand. "Where did you find her?"

"We're in Rome," Harry said, and she saw him kiss Cynthia's hair. "She was thinking of going to Morocco. But we came before she'd made any real plans. Don't worry, darling. We'll be home soon. And tell my mother, will you, that we've got the testing kit and we'll do it when we get her to France and have a chance to be sure there aren't other factors that would mess with the test, okay?"

"Yeah, will do," Catherine said, rubbing her eyes again. "Cyn, I love you."

"Love you, too, Mum," Cynthia's voice answered back eagerly.

"And Jason?"

"He's okay," Harry said, smiling weakly. "He's resting. He's been feeling much better for the last hour or so, although he was better today than he's been in ages. Didn't think he even needed the potion today. We made him take it anyway, just in case, but if he's still feeling good when he wakes, we may let him skip it and see how it goes. Love you, Cat. We'll be home soon."

"Love you, darling," she sighed, rubbing her forehead and trying to decide who to contact first when she closed the mirror. She paced the kitchen floor, pressing her hand to her chest, and decided that to be certain she caught whomever she was looking for, she'd have to send the message to Severus. And he was at Malfoy Manor.

But, then, she might miss him.

Best use a Patronus Charm, although she'd never been as good at them as Harry and Caroline. She closed her eyes as she pulled out her wand, taking a deep breath and focusing on the utter relief and joy she'd felt at seeing her daughter's face. She felt tears prickling her eyes again and she muttered the incantation.

It was an Irish Wolfhound, and she smiled as the dog looked up at her, sweet. She gave it a short message – Cynthia found, much to discuss, come to the manor – and directed it to find Severus. The Patronus bounded out of the great room and she turned her attention to the pool, frowning down at the rippling waves on the surface of the pool. Her father's Wednesdays were packed, she knew, but if he could get someone to cover the day for him…. He had first through third year courses, nothing too difficult or complex.

Columbine would be free, and perhaps Catherine's mother or Harry's mother would go, as well. If Severus wasn't going, it made sense for Harry's mother to go, especially as his father would not be free, even if hers were able to free himself.

But then, she thought, it was most sensible for their mothers to go, and for her father to see Cynthia when she was back in England, as she would certainly not return to school right away, if it were possible for her to return at all. She began to pace, and hurried to the kitchen to refill her empty teacup and make herself some lunch. She made some sandwiches – prawn cocktail, although she knew Severus would make himself something else when he returned – and she rubbed her forehead, wishing he would come, wishing they could solve this whole mess and she could hold her daughter, and never let her go.

"The dogs," she muttered before she finished with her sandwich. She ate as quickly as possible, putting her tea in a thermos to avoid spilling, and she hurried out to the garage that was a palace for the dogs, finding Penny right away and smiling as Penny greeted her enthusiastically, as if she knew that everything was alright. As if she knew Cynthia had been found, and was coming home, and life would be able to resume as though nothing had happened after the funeral. That they would be whole again.

/-/

Cynthia waited patiently for Mr. Diggory to return from the Italian Ministry, where he was pushing through approval for a couple of International Portkeys, which were apparently expensive favors. She didn't know if this meant money or simply the exchange of favors, but either way, this jaunt of hers had cost a lot of people both, as far as she could tell. She watched her father frown down at the street below and she crossed to him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I was so much trouble," she said earnestly.

Her father smiled weakly and said, "One thing I learned from your grandfather, darling, is all the trouble in the world is worth it for the ones you love. Your mother and I made plenty of mistakes, too, you know. Expensive, complicated mistakes. Not exactly like yours, but not totally unlike it. We weren't much older than you, either, and by the time anyone else knew, we'd made a right big mess. Nothing's broken that can't be fixed, Cyn. Nobody blames you for being in pain. We all miss her. We're all in pain."

She nodded, wondering what kind of mess her parents could possibly have been in. To her, they were ideal, excellent, infallible. Her mother was like a queen, and her father was the kindest, gentlest thing.

"She said Uncle Rabastan was missing," Cynthia said, puzzled. "Why would he be missing? Wouldn't he be at Lestrange Manor?"

"He was at ours, actually," her father said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't know the details. I expect we'll learn them soon enough. Professor Snape might be meeting us in France, or he might not. Depends how things are in England, I expect. Who would you most like to see, if we can swing it?"

"Mum," Cynthia said, pressing her face into her father's shoulder. "And…Colly. And Nanna."

Her father nodded. It was a sensible list, and a list of people who could likely be brought to France for a day, while she was recovering. They'd already told her, it might take a week, at the most, to be certain she was ready to go home, but they hoped it would be a matter of a few days.

"I've got them," Mr. Diggory announced, entering the room with a sweeping motion of his hand. "The comb goes to Marseille. Scorpius and I will be taking the hairpin to Minister Malfoy's office, directly. They leave in about," he checked his watch, "five minutes. Anything you need to gather before we depart Rome, Miss Potter?"

Cynthia shook her head, curling against her father. She'd brought nothing irreplaceable with her, and she certainly didn't need to bring the false ID or any of the clothes with her. Just her wand.

"Have a packet of crisps," Mr. Moody growled. "No sense travelling on an empty stomach. After everything you've put yourself through, missy, you'll no doubt make yourself sick otherwise."

She might have not liked this Mr. Moody, had she met him in England. But she'd met all sorts of people on her travels, had seen how each person had their own exterior, and that the charm was in how they interacted with others. Mr. Moody might be gruff and brusque and short, but he seemed a tender man, and he interacted with concern not only with her, but also with her Uncle Jason, who seemed to be the weakest, most ill person in the whole room. She hadn't asked yet what was wrong with him, what potion he was taking, but she planned to as soon as they were in France.

The Portkey was not a smooth trip, ever, but this was not a particularly rough one. When she was standing in the villa, on familiar ground again, it seemed to her a foreign place. She'd changed so much since she brought Rhiannon here, done so many things and touched so many people. She didn't feel the same person she was then. She touched her tongue to parched lips and looked around the room, feeling a shiver cross her spine.

"I'll see what we've got in the pantry," her father said brightly. "Moody, feel free to prowl the perimeter, or whatever would make you most comfortable. Jason, put her in Cat's room. I'll sleep across the hall."

Her uncle nodded, and led her upstairs, to the bedroom her parents usually shared, when they came to Marseille. She looked around the almost oppressively white room and blinked at the balcony, watching the high winds rise on the sea. She shivered slightly, and she realized Uncle Jason had asked if she needed anything.

She blinked at him and said softly, "You're unwell, aren't you?" He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as though he were wincing, but the rest of his face did not partake of the action. "Is it my fault?"

At this, his eyes widened, and she sensed he was trying to decide what to say, although she knew instinctively it was partially her fault.

"Cyn, it's so much more complicated than that," he said, thankfully not insulting her intelligence by saying no. "You can ask Professor Snape about it, when he comes. He'll be able to explain it a lot better than I. But essentially, it has to do with how worried we all are, and how much we love you. That's all you need to know. Now, why don't you relax while I see if there's tea in that pantry, alright? Your dad's probably just thinking about food."

She nodded, watching him go, knowing she'd be tested and poked and prodded while they determined what she needed before she could go home. But they didn't understand. She wasn't sick. The only thing she really needed was to go home, to see her mother, to play with the dogs, and to see Cecilia's room, to say goodbye. She hadn't managed it at the funeral, but she felt ready, now.

 **A/N: So, Cynthia is found, Catherine has a weight of her shoulders, and a sparkle of hope is on the horizon for the suffering Harry and Jason have been going through.**

 **Review Prompt: Severus at Malfoy Manor is coming soon…. How do we feel about that particular sliver of information?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Cynthia feel regret for what she's done? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: I think for some of the things, on some level, yes, she does feel regret. She certainly regrets leaving as she did, for not bringing anyone with her. I don't know how much she regrets the sex and drugs aspect, but I think she's tired of it.**

 **Q: Is the mind trick harder to detect than the dream world? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: So, for anyone who hasn't figured it out yet, the magic inflicted on her mind was the Imperius Curse. It's actually easier for most people to detect than the dream world, both victim and bystander, but if uncaught is easier to sustain over long periods of time. Rabastan already knew Catherine had very little resistance to the spell from her encounter with Karkaroff, and so considered it a reasonable risk.**

 **Q: If you had to do a crossover with another franchise, what would it be? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Oh, god. I hate crossovers. They always feel so forced and impossible to me. I guess if I really had to cross the HP universe with something, it would have to be something inhabiting the same time/space, so I would lean toward something like Sherlock or Doctor Who. If I crossed this particular story, it would have to be Sherlock. The concept of a do-over would be too strong a temptation for a Doctor Who bent, and I think a Wizard!Sherlock would be like a peskier version of Barker, searching for a truth between the lines of history and the society pages, filling in those blanks.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	36. Where You Are

**A/N: Here's Bonus One for this week. Remember, this week only, five reviews get a bonus! We've only got a couple of chapters to go, so you could start the new parts this weekend if you push on!**

 **-C**

 _I've been wandering. Gone away too far, but the road was rough to get back to where you are. – As Long As You Follow, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie, Eddy Quintela Medoca)_

Severus stood in Malfoy Manor for the first time in a very long time, and Narcissa stared back at him, her eyes slightly bloodshot, her hands folded with false calm and serenity.

"You have the retrovirus," he said.

Narcissa said nothing in return, staring back at him, infuriatingly calm. Severus swallowed, a vessel for violent, swirling emotions he couldn't wrestle under control. They warred with each other, tugging him every which way so all he could do was stand still and look at her.

"Why did no one tell me?" he said softly. "Why did you only say you were ill?"

"You needed to focus on Cynthia," she said, smoothing her hair. "I imagine you're only here because she's found."

"I had to check on Catherine," he said dismissively. "And Rabastan's gone missing."

Her eyes flashed, and he could see the question behind them. Perhaps she suspected, or perhaps she was merely surprised.

"Well, I would look after her," she said, turning slightly to consider a silver tureen awkwardly and – Severus thought – distastefully displayed on a little table in the corridor. "If I were not busy looking after myself."

His nostrils flared, his pulse racing in his throat.

"I'll find a cure," he said firmly. She smiled, and he knew she didn't believe him. "Lily will help. But I'll find it. You will not die."

"We all die, eventually," she said, letting her fingers caress the tureen, although he could see the tremble of her hands now.

Severus scooped her hands into his without a thought, and he began to press kisses to them, feeling them twitch and shake against his hold as he pressed cool lips to each finger.

"You'll not die from this," he said, stern. "You'll die peacefully, pleasantly, from a ripe old age. In your sleep. With no deterioration or suffering."

"That would be nice."

He ignored the irony in her voice as he tried to think what to say to her, but a Patronus greatly resembling Catherine's first dog swept into the room, and Catherine's voice came from its mouth, saying Cynthia had been found and he was needed at Potter Manor. He looked up at Narcissa, as though taking his leave, and he was surprised when her hand slipped out of his hold and caressed his chin, along his jaw, up toward his cheek. He closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of her touch. The violent emotions seemed to intensify, but rather than fighting each other, they all worked together to encourage this foolishness, to urge him toward her.

"She needs, you, Severus," Narcissa whispered. "Go. I'll certainly be here, when all this is finished." He nodded. "Oh, and you should know, Astoria has the retrovirus as well."

His stomach dropped and he nodded again, wondering how devastated Draco was to learn this. He kissed her hand again, more in the usual vein this time, and left Malfoy Manor, Disapparating quickly from Wiltshire to Nottinghamshire, pressing his hand to the gate and letting Catherine Disapparate to the other side of it.

Well, if she was well enough to do that, he supposed, then removing the troubling memories and the news of Cynthia's recovery perhaps had healed her almost entirely. That, or a cup of tea truly did have all the healing properties the Marauders always attributed to it.

"Your daughter?" he prompted as she let him in and he led the way, sweeping toward the house.

"Alive and well," Catherine said with a sigh. "I spoke to her briefly. I think she feels guilty and ashamed more than anything. They've moved her to Marseille to check her health and state of mind before bringing her home. Harry says she might be there as much as a week, but at least a couple of days. Cedric and Scorpius have returned to the Ministry. Severus, I was thinking we should take some people to visit her, when she's well enough for visitors."

"Sensible," he said, knowing she would expect to be among the visitors. Likely Catherine's father, although he wasn't sure that could be done before the weekend. Cara and Lily were both available, and he got the distinct impression Catherine would insist upon bringing Columbine Peakes.

"What do I do?" she asked, pressing her hands together. "I assume Aunt Narcissa isn't able to come stay with me."

"No," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "But Cynthia is found. Perhaps…you should have your parents stay with you, help you prepare for her return. It is only for a few days. I think Caroline could stand without her babysitter for a few days."

"Maybe," Catherine said with a smile. "Tresha's a terror and those twins seem more like four than two."

Severus told her to send her mother a note, that she would be fine alone that long. He needed to go to the Ministry, get another International Portkey to send him to Marseille, to oversee Cynthia's recovery. He felt torn, greatly, between looking after Catherine and Narcissa in England, and being where he knew he was needed in France. But he knew his place.

/-/

Lily was with Cara when the letter from Catherine arrived, and Cara dropped her teacup as she read it.

"What is it?" Lily asked.

"They've found Cynthia," Cara said, her voice dull and stunned. "She's in France now. But Rabastan's gone missing somewhere between his home and Catherine's. She was wondering whether Sirius and I could stay with her, until Cynthia and Harry come home."

Rabastan going missing was an odd thing, and Lily had a feeling the Auror Department would work overtime to determine where he'd gone. But to know their granddaughter was no longer missing was a huge relief.

"You'll go, of course," Lily said urgently. "She'll be a mess of emotions. She'll need your support. And I imagine it will be good for Sirius, as well."

"Yes, I think it will be," she said, frowning. "I just…. Well, Caro."

"They'll figure it out for a matter of days," Lily said with a smile. "And I can certainly pitch in, time to time. James can on weekends, as well. And I'm certain Blaise would let Damon work from home for a short time, just to help out."

"He wouldn't get much work done," Cara said with an almost wry smile. "I should go straight there, if she's alone. I'll write Caro when I get there, but can you drop by the castle? Spread the good news."

"I'd be happy to," Lily said, kissing Cara's cheek and watching her dash to the bedroom, no doubt to fill a couple of small bags for herself and Sirius to live out of while they were staying at Potter Manor. It was the simplest thing in the world now, to think of her son's house as such, not like when they first bought it. She decided she'd tell James first, and she focused on the gate to Hogwarts, turning on her heel.

/-/

Jason watched his niece sleeping, and he heard the voice of Severus Snape in the foyer, discussing her condition with Harry. Jason brushed a strand of hair from her face, thinking how peaceful she looked, how marvelously peaceful she and her mother both were now. He'd been able to take a long, healthy nap twice since finding her. She was beautiful, perhaps more beautiful in his mind now she was lost and found, now Cecilia was gone forever. If she had been precious to them before, she was intensely precious now.

He did not move away when Severus stalked into the room, raising a wand to deepen her sleep before speaking.

"How long has she slept?"

"About an hour," Jason said softly. "She fell asleep not long after she spoke with Kitty. How is Kitty?"

"She's better now," Severus said evasively.

Jason didn't ask. Somehow, Rabastan had been the root of the problem. He was now missing, never to be found, Jason supposed. Delia was in on it, or they wouldn't use the story that he'd gone missing between the two places. He let his fingers slide through Cynthia's silky black hair. It felt cool and smooth like her mother's hair, but thick and dark as her father's hair.

Severus began a series of tests and diagnostics, taking blood samples, and a hair sample, examining her fingernails, and asking Jason about her eyes, her eating habits, her bathroom habits. Jason answered as best he could, for having been asleep for part of the time, and Severus said she was well enough, clean enough for the retrovirus testing.

"The drug she took is no longer in her bloodstream," Severus said. "Short lived, or perhaps something she hasn't taken for several days. But I expect I will find the traces in her hair. She will need psychological support, I imagine, and Harry and Catherine will need to explain to her why they do not partake of substances, so she might make better choices. But when she wakes, we'll begin the retrovirus test."

"I'll let you know," Jason said, not looking up from his niece's face.

"I'll have someone bring you up a cup of tea and something to eat."

Jason hummed, knowing someone would be Harry. Likely the two would sit beside Cynthia together and just watch her sleep, the way they'd done with their children as babies. The way Jason suspected they both still watched their wives.

/-/

Damon was popping home on his lunch break when he stumbled across Madam Potter, strolling toward the gate to his home. He blinked at her.

"Oh," he said, smiling weakly. "Were we expecting you? Or did Caro call you in?"

"She has a day off, then?" Madam Potter asked pleasantly, and Damon nodded, opening the gate and allowing her to lead the way to the house. "I'll need to speak with you both. It's good news, mostly."

"But all means," he said, although he felt puzzled as he called out his wife's name, trying to find her. Two of the children ran past too quickly for him to decide which ones, and Caroline glided through to the foyer, looking mildly frazzled.

"Oh," she said, blinking at Madam Potter. "Aunt Lily. What a surprise."

"Indeed," Madam Potter said, kissing Caroline's cheek. "I'll need a quiet word with the pair of you. The elves can handle the children for a moment?"

"I suppose they'll have to," Caroline said, gesturing them through to the sitting room. She shooed Melantha out, winking at the girl before closing, locking, and charming the door. "What's happened, then? Is Kitty alright?"

"Yes, mercifully," Madam Potter said with a tight smile. "There's a few things going on. First, Cynthia's been found, recovered, and is in France while they determine whether she's well enough to come home. A matter of days, really." Both Damon and Caroline said how wonderful this was, and Madam Potter nodded slowly and said, "The bad news is, Rabastan's somehow gone missing. He went to see his wife and never made it back to Potter Manor after. So, while Cynthia's in France, it's been decided your parents, Caro, are going to stay at Potter Manor, help Catherine prepare, keep…an eye on her. She's doing well, but she's tired, and we want her to keep doing well. You understand."

"Perfectly," Damon said firmly. "I'll talk to Blaise, take some time off or work from home. If it's only a matter of days, he'll be perfectly understanding. And Caro's only working every other day for the next few weeks, anyway."

"I can pop in on the days she's working," Lily said. "Not full days, mind, as I need to make regular visits to Malfoy Manor, but much of my work at this stage could be done here, in bits and pieces."

They began to hammer out specifics, and Damon felt, despite the fenagling, things were finally going to be alright.

/-/

Penny greeted Great Mistress, the mother figure to Mistress, with an eager bark, rubbing against her outstretched paw. The sight of Great Mistress was a sign of good things to come, and the dogs were all pleased, as they could roam the house and grounds freely, could be as close to Mistress as they wished. She rested her head in Mistress's lap as the two women sat in the largest room, speaking in soft, gentle, pleasant voices.

"I'm just so relieved she's coming home," Mistress said. "Oh, someone's at the gates."

"I'll get it," Great Mistress said. "You relax."

Penny enjoyed Mistress's fingers through her fur until Great Mistress returned with the Shifter, who pulled Mistress into an eager embrace. They said things Penny could not hear, embracing until Penny pushed herself between them, demanding their attention. Shifter barked his loud, amused bark, and he winked at Mistress before changing to his dog form. He was large, dark, imposing, but Penny was not afraid of him. She deferred to him, as she deferred to Paddy when he was alive, but Shifter was not fully dog, not fully human.

She pressed her nose to his and he blinked large, dark eyes at her amused, rubbing along her as he passed her to press his head into Great Mistress's lap. Penny knew Great Mistress was Shifter's mate, and Penny thought they were beautiful.

"We're both relieved," Great Mistress said, scratching behind Shifter's ears. "Sirius, I'll never get used to you doing that. No, I've spoken to Draco, and he agrees with the report Severus sent. She's well, doesn't have the retrovirus, and can have visitors. He's suggested you, me, and one other person. I would say Lily, but I asked her and she said Wednesday she must be around to help Caro and Damon, and to check in on Astoria and Narcissa. So, Columbine, I imagine. If her parents approve."

"She'll be pleased," Mistress said, kissing Penny's snout. "She'll be quite pleased."

/-/

Catherine woke feeling strangely alone, and she remembered Harry was still in France. She would visit the following day, but for the moment, she was working with her mother to prepare for their return. She stretched, showered, and pulled on a warm sweater dress before going down to the kitchen, where her father was making breakfast for the three of them.

"What's this, then?" she asked, amused.

"I can cook," he teased, kissing her cheek as she hugged him. "Darling, we have some bad news. Best you hear it from us rather than read it in the papers."

"Cynthia?" she asked, feeling her throat close slightly. "Or…Uncle Rabastan?"

"No sign of your uncle yet, and Cynthia's still fine, as far as we know," her mother said gently. "No, there is…news about Ryana."

Her stomach dropped, and she quickly took a seat beside her mother, picking up the tea one of them had poured her while she'd been upstairs.

"Apparently," her father said darkly, adding sausages to the fry pan, "she was hiking up north, took a fall. Must have been alone. She was found yesterday evening, identified by an Auror. I was called in early this morning, as they wanted you to identify her. I didn't want them to wake you. She'd been bloodied up pretty good from the fall, but it was her."

Catherine's hands were shaking, and she nodded, picking up the teacup, hearing it rattle against the saucer until she lifted it above all possible contact points.

She'd regained her daughter, but lost two other people dear to her. It didn't seem to make any sense, and yet it was a reality she lived in. Ryana was gone, and until she heard otherwise, so was Uncle Rabastan. Gone forever, like Cecilia. Nothing to be done to bring them back. The cost of good fortune in other places, she supposed.

"I see," she said softly. "I see. Daddy, are you going back to the castle soon? You've got classes, haven't you?"

"Yes, I do," he said, kissing her cheek. "Remus is going to have Colly Peakes Floo over. Her parents have given their approval for her visiting France with you lot tomorrow. When you do see Cyn, darling, tell her how much I love her, will you?"

"Of course," Catherine said, thanking him as he slid a plate full of food in front of her. She wasn't especially hungry, but she didn't feel right spurning something he'd made specially for her. She ate as much as she could stomach while he lingered, and as soon as he left for work, she pushed the plate away from her.

Her mother gave her a sad, knowing look.

"He's doing the best he can," her mother said gently. "The best he can muster. It's a tricky thing, you know. We all deal with it in our different ways. Let me know if there's anything you need, love."

"Of course," Catherine sighed. "But I think, perhaps, the thing I need right now is to focus in on what needs to be done, instead of what I've lost."

Her mother nodded, and Catherine knew she understood. After all, her mother lived through a war, through countless losses, through nearly losing both of her daughters multiple times, through killing the most notorious Dark Wizard in her lifetime, through losing a grandchild and caring for everyone else while they broke down. Her mother was the strongest person in the whole of the world, and Catherine knew the way she managed was by taking everything each day at a time, one task at a time, until she had everything worked out and she could look back with relief.

"We should start with changing the sheets," her mother said. "And a basic clean of Cynthia's room, of course. I'm sure you've not dusted in there while they've been gone."

"No, I haven't," she said, smiling. "And Mum, thank you."

"It's nothing, darling," her mother said with a smile. "Nothing at all."

But it was everything to Catherine.

 **A/N: So, Severus knows Narcissa is dying, Catherine suffers another loss, and Jason is recovering from his extreme, prolonged sensory overload.**

 **Review Prompt: How do you think Narcissa felt during this encounter?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: How will people react to Rabastan's death? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: The official story will be missing, at least through the end of this part. Eventually, it'll be missing presumed dead. Delia and Severus will be the only ones who know the true details, although several others (including Jason, obviously) have a pretty good idea what must have happened to Rabastan, if not why. There will be very little reaction in the end of Part 3, but there will be an explosion of reaction in Part 4, because something can't be buried forever without some measure of consequence.**

 **Q: Does Cynthia know her dad is after her? (Joe-wizard)**

 **A: Obviously a bit of an old question…. Cynthia knew someone was after her, but whether she might have concluded Harry was the person looking for her if she'd given it a great deal of thought, she didn't really dwell on who it might be. She didn't think deeply on it at all, and so her father showing up was definitely a surprise for her.**

 **Q: What did Rabastan do to Ryana? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: For the sake of clarification—Rabastan used the Killing Curse to get rid of Ryana, then dumped her in the cellar of Lestrange Manor. When he was dead and gone, her body was still decomposing in the cellar, where Severus and Delia found it. Severus deposited it on a hiking trail up north (think Scotland), and made it look like she'd had a fall while hiking alone, and the animals had gotten at the body. Her body has since been discovered, and as nothing with a lingering magical signature existed, the authorities magical have no qualms about declaring it a simple accident.**

 **Q: Has Severus ever Obliviated someone's mind before and not told them? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: In the confines of this story? No. Catherine's was the first. But as far as during the war, absolutely. It wasn't his specialty (Rabastan and Bellatrix were both far more interested in manipulation of memory), but there were times when it was necessary. Especially when Severus turned spy, he needed to have means that weren't permanently detrimental to the victim, and erasing a memory is much less distressing than torture or death. You know, long-term. As far as what he did with James, that was an anomaly. Usually, you don't ask before you erase someone's memories, but he needed a quick and tidy solution for James blundering into his carefully laid plan.**

 **Cheers!**

 **C**


	37. You'll Know

**A/N: Here's your regular weekly update! Just so we're clear, the next chapter is the LAST chapter, and when I post it, whether as a bonus or a regular update, I will also start posting Part 0 and Part 4! Eager for that? Review, review, review!**

 **-C**

 _Women, they will come and they will go. When the rain washes you clean, you'll know. – Dreams, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)_

Harry greeted Catherine, Aunt Cara, and Columbine Peakes at the gate Wednesday morning. As soon as he opened the gate, he pulled his wife into a firm hug, feeling how thin she'd grown since he left England. He wished he brought her along, but he knew it wouldn't have been the right thing. But how he'd missed her.

"I love you," he whispered as her mother and Columbine started toward the villa. "Oh, I love you, Cat."

"I love you, too," she said, looking up with glistening eyes. "How is she, darling?"

"Better," he said, kissing her cheek. "She's better. Healthy and just about ready to come home. In fact, Severus thinks we might just all take the Portkey together. If the visit goes well."

He was excited to go home, to spend the night with his wife and hold her.

"So, what exactly happened?" she asked, taking his hand and walking him back to the villa. "I mean, was she travelling alone all that time?"

"That's something we need to discuss with her," Harry said darkly. "And with Severus. They've already explained to her about Jason's condition. Jason thought it prudent, because she was worried about him. He's looking better now, but he hardly slept the whole time, so when we found her he was looking pretty ragged. He's doing better now. He's been sleeping, and well from the look of him."

Catherine hummed, walking into the foyer and smiling as Cynthia launched herself at her mother, hugging her tightly, allowing Catherine to kiss the top of her head. Cynthia let out a spluttered stream of apologies as Harry took a step back, smiling weakly at his mother-in-law, who watched with a mild expression.

"Jason's still sleeping," Severus said, checking his pocket watch. "We'll wake him with time to spare before you go, but he does need his rest."

Aunt Cara nodded, and then she softly suggested she show Columbine around the house while mother and daughter bonded, and Columbine mutely agreed, following off down the corridor toward the music room. Harry sat on the stairs, watching Catherine soothe Cynthia.

It was still so strange to him, that his daughter was of age. Even with how mature she looked, and how mature she typically acted, he'd never really considered her as an adult. And now, hugging her mother, trembling, she looked more like a child than ever.

"Shall we go to the sitting room?" Severus said softly, and Catherine nodded, gently nudging Cynthia along the way. When they were settled, Cynthia trembling as she curled up against Harry, Severus cleared his throat. "Cynthia, would you like to tell us your version of what happened?"

Harry listened, feeling his stomach turn as she explained why she'd gone to the club, how she'd met the being she knew as Rhiannon, and how Rhiannon coaxed her across Europe, from place to place, pushing her comfort zone with substances and sexuality, eventually abandoning Cynthia in Rome without a word and with five tablets of the drug she'd been given along the way. Catherine was pale by the end of the story, and looked as though she might become physically ill.

"It was Jason's reactions that caused us to think she was not travelling alone," Severus told Catherine gently. "He would touch wherever she'd been staying, first the walls of this building, and so on, and he would feel grief, pain, depression, all the emotions he was able to determine were Cynthia's. The magical signature was unfamiliar, and well above Cynthia's abilities to do. It took us some time to determine what was happening."

He looked at Harry, who nodded, and Severus calmly shared the findings of Scorpius about this Rhiannon, explaining what she was, what she was after, and how she'd used Cynthia, drawn in by her mourning emotions and then living off them, feeding off her feelings as they travelled Europe together.

Cynthia went pale as the explanation continued, and she nodded numbly at the end, as though this made sense to her, as though this were something that could be expected – although Harry knew perfectly well that no one could expect such things.

"Now," Severus said firmly, "I think it's about time you two explain to your daughter why you have chosen not to drink or take medication without regular and frequent supervision."

Harry and Catherine exchanged a glance, but they'd always known this day would come. Especially given everything Cynthia had undergone, it seemed only prudent, but Harry knew this was painful for Catherine.

They wouldn't talk about the details of how they freed themselves. They would not lay out all their dirtiest secrets, but at least they could explain how rebellion turned into self-destruction.

"When we were teenagers," Catherine said softly, "we made some mistakes. And those mistakes got bigger, and a bit out of control. It started with drinking."

Yes, Harry thought, frowning. Drinking, and cigarettes. Even thinking of the word, he felt that magnetic sensation he'd always felt when Catherine smoked, the desperation to breathe in her exhaled smoke, to give in to the sensual haze.

As Catherine told the story, Harry felt Cynthia relax, and he knew this was helping her, as much as it hurt them to tell her.

/-/

Severus walked with Cara on the beach as Catherine spoke to her brother and Cynthia had some time alone with her best friend.

"I had a moment with Mad-Eye," Cara said with a small smile. "It was good, to be able to thank him for what he's done for my granddaughter. Things were such a mess during the war, and I don't know that he and I would have ever met again in any positive way if not for this. He so distrusted me."

Severus hummed, not sure what to say to her. The things he'd learned of her childhood, things she would never know, were still not fully digested in his mind. If he tried to count the people he had killed to protect her, protect her family, he would not ever be wholly certain what to count. But now he had to count Rabastan, and only Delia would ever know even a fraction of what he did.

"I don't know why," Cara said softly, pausing to gaze out at the sea. Severus raised his eyebrows and thought of how she reminded him of Catherine like this, the way Catherine was while she was recovering from her own foray into drugs. He felt a small shiver on his spine. "I don't know how or why or anything, but I know, as I know I love my granddaughter…. I know Rabastan is dead." Severus said nothing, and carefully levelled his breathing. "Just as I know Sirius will retire soon. I expect when we return to England, he will lay out the plans he's been making. It is the only possible answer for all the strange things he's been up to lately. Will you fight him?"

"Depends on his proposal," Severus said dryly, but he had no doubt Sirius had everything well planned. And it might do some good to allow him to leave, spend more time with his family. It might be good for the lot of them, actually.

"He hurt her, didn't he?" Cara asked, looking up at Severus's face. "Rabastan hurt my daughter." Severus said nothing, staring back levelly, but he knew how she would read his lack of response, and she nodded slowly, glancing back out at the sea. Perhaps she recalled more than she realized.

"What would make you think that?" he asked, his mind recalling perfectly the things Rabastan had done to a young Cara Selwyn, believing it hurt nothing because she had no future to ruin. Did she remember, even just a small sensation, or a tickle in the back of her thoughts? It didn't seem possible, but with mental magic, so much was still unknown.

"I don't know," she said with a heavy sigh. "But I do know he must have, just as I know he's dead and she's going to be alright. Because you'd never let anyone get away with hurting her."

"No," he said, frowning. "I certainly wouldn't."

They continued their walk, this time turning back toward the villa, and neither of them said a word. He felt better, somehow, knowing Cara did not seem to blame him for what he'd done to Rabastan, although he would never tell her the details. She would never ask, and she knew everything he'd done, he'd done to protect Catherine.

As he held open the door to the ballroom, he said, "I believe Catherine will be ready to return to work within a week or so, if we can sort out Cynthia's education. Harry and I have been discussing it. I believe she can finish her schoolwork from home, perhaps even finishing early, taking her NEWTs at the Ministry."

"I'm sure you know what's best," she said with a small smile, following him inside.

/-/

Cara hesitated by the door to the bedroom, smiling as she realized they put her in Catherine's room – the room where Catherine detoxed, years ago – instead of Cynthia's usual room. Cynthia was still with Columbine, and while she wanted to have a word with her granddaughter, she didn't want to interrupt an important conversation between friends.

"The thing is," Columbine said anxiously, "I know you've done all sorts of things now, and seen all kinds of places, been with all kinds of people, but…. Well, I should have told you ages ago, and now it's probably too late, but I love you."

"I love you, too."

The door was slightly open, and Cara felt intrusive, but she looked in at the two girls, sitting on the bed together, holding each other's hands. Columbine was tearful, Cynthia confident and almost radiant. For a moment, Cara thought she was looking at a young Catherine.

"No, you don't understand," Columbine said mournfully. "I love you."

Cynthia snorted and said, "You silly, silly thing." Cara was hardly surprised to see Cynthia lean forward and kiss the other girl, who was stunned, but then relaxed into the kiss, even moaning with disappointment when Cynthia pulled away from the kiss. "I love you, too. I think I always did, I just didn't…realize. D'you know?"

Columbine nodded, blinking rapidly before she leaned forward, kissing Cynthia again. Cara watched the two girls figure out where they were going to put their hands as Cynthia moved to straddle Columbine's lap, and Cara carefully, quietly, closed the door properly. No sense in them not having a properly private moment.

The one thing that could be said for Columbine and Cynthia was they might actually be able to have a properly happy, mature relationship, given they'd waited and lived a bit before they began. Sirius might be a bit unhappy there wouldn't be great-grandchildren right away, but perhaps the girls would adopt, in their own time. And Gareth and Coreen were likely to start down that road sooner rather than later. Plenty of time to worry about all that at some other time.

For now, they just needed to normalize.

She went downstairs, grateful things seemed to be righting themselves, in their own way. Cecilia would never be back, but Cara could almost feel her presence, and she supposed she always would. She had no doubt Cecilia would have been pleased with how everything was turning out, would have been pleased her sister was happy and healthy and coming home, that her parents were going to be alright, and that her grandfather was going to retire properly, as Cara was quite certain he planned to do.

If only Narcissa and Severus could work out their ridiculousness, and a cure for the retrovirus could be found. But Cara supposed there was never a point in life where all the loose ends were tied. Else the story would have an end, and life did not work that way.

/-/

Laura was just home from work when she realized there was already a light on in the house, in the sitting room. She frowned, pulling out her wand, ready to attack the intruder, but when she saw her husband having a cup of tea by the fireplace, she relaxed and hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his face.

"I'm fine," he insisted, laughing. God, it was good to hear him laugh, to feel his body as she sat on his lap. "I'm really, really fine. Cynthia was doing so well, we've all come home. Kitty said I can take you to see her tomorrow, for dinner. If you'd like. Right now, I'm sure Dad is showering her with his undying affection and relief. She's going to be so spoiled, she won't know what hit her."

"And you're sleeping?" Laura asked. "Without a potion or anything? You're eating right? You feel fine?"

"I promise," Jason said, lifting her hands to his lips. "I'm really, really fine. Everything's going to be alright now. I'll probably start working again, next week. I don't want to work until I've had a few normal days under my belt, but I hate sitting around."

"What will you do with your days?" she asked, caressing his hair, smiling as he kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Oh, visiting my sister," he said with a shrug. "Caro, obviously. I've had enough of the Potters for a while. Might do some reading I've been putting off. And some time with my mum, when she's got the time. D'you want to do something next week, with everyone?"

"Who's everyone?"

"Oh, you know. Jimmy and Cora. Nat and Kevin. Dennis." Laura laughed and nodded. "Good, I'll try to arrange that, then. It'll be good to see them. I saw Colly. They brought her along to see Cyn. I think they might be…. You know."

Laura told him she certainly did not know, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you know, love. I think they might be together, now. If they weren't before."

Laura could have laughed, but she didn't. She'd known for years that Catherine was bisexual, and it surprised her not one jot that Cynthia might be at least bisexual, if not lesbian. Gareth had as much as hinted this some time ago, at least on Columbine's part. She just told her husband this was very interesting news, and explained to him about Gareth and Coreen Peakes, which he took quite well.

Perhaps it was because Jason was such an even-tempered man, or perhaps because Gareth was so responsible, but Laura had a feeling it was because these things were always harder on the parents of the daughter. A silly thing, but her father had a much harder time letting her get married than Jason's family had with his getting married. But perhaps they'd just spent all their energy of worry on Catherine, with none left for Caroline and Jason by then.

"I'm glad you're home," she told Jason, and she pressed her lips to his.

/-/

After work, Cora Peakes went by Potter Manor to get her daughter and take her back to Hogwarts. She was greeted by Harry at the gate, and he smiled, hugging her.

"So, Cynthia's alright?"

"I should bloody well hope so," Harry said with a bit of a snort. He took off his glasses in the foyer and cleaned them on his shirt. "They've been locked up in Cyn's room for ages. I'm hoping they're just snogging, but…" He shrugged.

Cora shrugged back and smiled. She'd had a feeling this would be the result, and she did not mind. Cynthia was, like her mother, a force of personality, a wall of charm and grace and intelligence. Unlike her mother, though, she had always been a warm, open, caring sort of person, and the girls had been friends from the train. But once Columbine began discovering her own sexuality, Cora knew it was only a matter of time before she realized she was quite in love with her best friend, and the way the girls had been with each other, Cora suspected it would be mutual.

"We'll just keep an eye out," Cora said softly. "And maybe knock before we enter."

Harry just laughed.

/-/

Sadie the Irish Wolfhound bounded up the stairs to where Miss Cynthia was laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Master was bringing Miss Cynthia a tray with warm brown liquid and warm, stiff bread, and so the bedroom door was open. Miss Cynthia welcomed Sadie with open arms and a kiss on the snout.

"It's not ideal," Master was saying, "and you'll have to work very hard, but you may even finish early this way. Of course, I'll do my best on weekdays, and your mum can do evenings. But weekends, you'll have to work quite hard indeed."

"I know, Daddy," Miss Cynthia said, tracing her fingers lazily through Sadie's fur as Sadie pressed her snout at Miss Cynthia's neck, making certain she was real and warm and not vanishing again. "I'll do my very best. Could Colly stay over at Easter holiday?"

Master laughed.

/-/

Catherine was staring out the window at the pool when Harry came to bed, and she did not look up when he entered. She had many things weighing on her mind since her last conversation with her father, many important things. Next week, when she went back to work, she would have a meeting to arrange. She saw no reason to put it off any longer, now she knew her own mind.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

She smiled, closing her eyes. Nothing in the world was wrong, except Cecilia was still gone.

Catherine did not answer the question, simply turning to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he approached her. He whispered how much he loved her, but Catherine didn't care about the words. They'd had only words for ages now, and she wanted to feel him. She pulled him into a kiss, and the energy pulsing between their bodies, even all these years on, was as desperate and as violent as that night in Brighton, when she'd first felt him inside her, first seen him lose control with how much he loved her.

How had she ever wanted more than this?

 **A/N: So, Cynthia knows her parents' drug history, Cara knows Rabastan is dead, Columbine and Cynthia are a couple, and Catherine has something she needs to do.**

 **Review Prompt: What do you think Catherine's big task is going to be? What's she up to?**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: Will Jason have any lasting effects of what happened to him? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Will Jason have to live with the natal bonds? Absolutely. Will there be lasting side effects of this particular incident? Not really, no. And his sister and niece will be far more cautious in future. That's not to say he's not going to have problems with it—and he will sometimes have nightmares. But the physical impact is largely over when he's fully rested.**

 **Q: How long has Rabastan been planning to have a relationship with Catherine? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Kind of an older question…. How long has he wanted a relationship with Catherine? He's been thinking about it since Karkaroff attacked her. But he didn't have any plans to do anything until he was appointed as her caretaker while they searched for Cynthia. It was more taking advantage of an opportunity than a plot he hatched.**

 **Q: Does Harry have a favorite dog? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Harry doesn't think he has a favorite, but much like when parents have favorite children, he leans toward one or another anyway. He used to have a particular bond with Paddy, but especially now Cecilia's died, Shadow has become his favorite dog.**

 **-C**


	38. Open Your Eyes

**A/N: And here it is! End of Part 3. In the AN at the bottom, I'll not only answer all outstanding questions on this section, but I'll give further details on Parts 0 and 4, which will be posted shortly after posting this. Keep an eye out today or tomorrow for them!**

 **-C**

 _Open your eyes and look at the day. You'll see things in a different way. – Don't Stop, Fleetwood Mac (Christine McVie)_

Cynthia poured her tea on Monday morning – her mother's first day back to work in quite some time now, since Cecilia's accident, and she marveled for a moment at the banal normalcy her life had conformed to in the past few days. She looked across the table to where her mother was reviewing sales figures before going into Brum, and to where her father was making the fry-up at the stove.

"Mum," she said slowly, "Dad." When they were both looking up at her, she decided to out with it. "You do know I'm dating Colly, now, right?"

"Of course we do, darling," her mother said with a wry smile looking back down at her figures. "She's a good girl. I like her very much."

"Just remember to practice safe sex," her father said with a wink as he tipped sausages onto plates. "There's things to catch other than pregnancy."

Cynthia laughed, but she promised to be safe. She'd had more than enough wild rebellion to last the whole of her life, taking much more after her father and grandmothers than after her mother. Cecilia had always been the one most likely to do something mad.

"What do you have planned for the day, then?" her mother asked, not looking up from the sales figures, marking something in the bottom corner of one page.

"Cyn's going to do some reading this morning," her father said. "Dad and your dad sent over the syllabi, and notes on her progress. I'll review that while she reads, and then after lunch we'll make a plan together. It might take a day or two to work out everything, or at least get a rhythm, but by the end of the week, she'll be on her way to finishing school."

Cynthia was relieved to be getting a routine again, something normal and simple. She'd seen in the papers that she'd recovered from her grief-induced illness (details undisclosed) and was convalescing from home, finishing her schooling in seclusion while she regained her strength. Her mother said as she finished more of her work, they might parade her at a few events they had to go to, just to stop tongues wagging about all the silly rumors people came up with when they didn't know what was happening.

"Harry," her mother said, still not looking up, "I may be out later today. Lots to do, and I've got a meeting or two I might need to have toward the end of the work day. I'll let you know when I have a better idea of when I'll be done."

"That's fine, love," her father said, kissing her mother's hair as he slid plates onto the table. "Work away while you eat, Cat."

Cynthia laughed as her mother rolled her eyes dramatically and put her work away in her satchel. Her father was adamant about meals being a sacred time for human interaction and enjoyment of his well-cooked food, and not for other distractions, and Cynthia had always enjoyed this old-fashioned notion. Morning banter and the clatter of forks was broken up when her mother glanced at the clock, announced she had to leave now or be late for her first day back, and kissed them both before rushing away with her satchel and a thermos of tea.

When Cynthia and her father were alone with their breakfast, her father asked what was on her mind, as she'd not even touched her black pudding, which had always been a favorite of hers. She patted it thoughtfully with her fork, not looking up.

"Just feels different," she whispered. "Like…now there's two people missing from the house. But it doesn't hurt like with Celia."

He hummed, and she wondered what he was thinking. She'd been shocked by the death of Ryana Cotton, who had been her nanny as a girl, who had cleaned and gardened and helped her father with cooking – particularly for large parties. Cynthia had known for some years now that her mother and Ryana were lovers and her father knew and approved, in his way. She couldn't claim to understand the arrangement, but she knew it existed, and it had never seemed anything but a thing that existed to Cynthia.

"It's a bit weird, yeah," her father said, leaning in to kiss her hair. "Probably hurts me more than you. Actually, it seems to be hurting me more than your mum, but she's a very private, internal woman. I expect she's in more pain than she's letting on. Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet."

Cynthia didn't say a thing. She thought, perhaps, that Rhiannon had not only taken her grief, but had taken her ability to fully grieve. She drew out not only the pain, but with it, maybe, the emotional structure for experiencing that pain. It was a possibility, something she probably would never find an answer yes or no, but one she'd be curious to study in her own time.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm."

"I've been curious about alchemy. Or, I don't know. Something other than the usual brand of courses. When I finish my school, what am I supposed to do with myself?"

"A job, maybe?" he teased.

Cynthia gave him a bored, annoyed look. It wasn't that she couldn't work, but she didn't have a passion for anything. She supposed someday she could start a foundation, like Uncle Jason and Aunt Laura, but she felt she was a bit more of a homebody, like her father. She could support whatever Columbine's ambitions were, without doing more than giving to charity.

"I'll talk to Professor Snape, Cyn. We'll see what he suggests."

/-/

The proposal was a sound one, and Severus looked over his desk at the two men who were making it. Cara would be pleased, no doubt, that Sirius was taking the rest of his life to spend with her and their children and grandchildren – and perhaps great-grandchildren, in not so long of a time.

"Very well, Mr. Barker," Severus said, setting down the application. "You will most certainly be welcome as the new History of Magic professor, pending the approval of the governors. Of course, Sirius has more sway with the governors than I, so even if I did not approve, it would be done. You are certainly qualified, and I believe we can make dispensation for your research."

When Mr. Barker thanked them and left, Sirius sighed with relief.

"You're certain you're not going to regret this?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows. "You still have very many grandchildren to come through."

Sirius shook his head, rubbing his forehead and said, "I have been looking in at my life from the outside for pretty much as long as I can remember, now. I haven't been living it. I've been studying a time when I lived, and watching everybody else around me have a life, and I need to be with my wife, and my children. I want to do things, maybe travel, give Cat as many days out in Oxford as her heart desires, lazy afternoons in bed. You really ought to find yourself a wife, Severus. They're a truly wonderful thing."

Severus wasn't certain whether Sirius was teasing or whether he was simply that stupid, but the comment about marriage stabbed at his chest. If he could have done so and not ruined everything, he might have. Now….

"Other matters have occupied me, and I do not regret the preoccupation. You are sharing the news with your family today?"

"Telling Cat tonight," Sirius said with a shrug, scratching his head. "We'll go from there. Expect she already knows. I've got to get to my office. D'you need anything else from me?"

Severus shook his head and dismissed this man he somehow, over the years, almost thought of as a friend. From enemies to co-conspirators, and now somehow…friends. If someone had told him in school, or even during the war, that he would kill repeatedly for Sirius Black's daughter, that he would bend over backwards for Sirius Black's grandchildren, that he would have tea occasionally with Sirius Black's wife, he might have believed it half-possible, that some circumstances could exist to make this possible. But had he been told he would one day be Sirius Black's friend, it would have seemed impossible.

Even now, it seemed impossible, and yet here he was.

Severus pulled out the work Lily had done thus far on the retrovirus, attempting to slow it – the first step. Lily could worry herself over first steps, paperwork, testing and the potential of inoculation. Severus did not have the time to waste. He needed to find the cure, and he needed to find it quickly. If he had to live in Malfoy Manor, go there every moment he wasn't needed at the castle, he would.

Because Narcissa Malfoy was not allowed to die. He did not know, after all these years, what his life would be without her, and he was desperate not to find out. To deny himself of any affection she might give him was his identity, more than anything else, and he could not lose it.

/-/

James dropped by Potter Manor after his Monday obligations were dispatched, bringing around some sweets Lily instructed him to take for Cynthia, who greeted him brightly and showed off the Transfiguration she'd been working on while her father was getting caught up on her education.

"Brilliant, Cyn," he said with a wink. "When I come around for your lessons on Saturday, you and I are going to go over some things not on the curriculum. How's your project looking?"

"Not sure what I was thinking," she said, picking at a spot on her left forearm absently. "I'm trying to trace back through my steps, but it doesn't seem a logical thing at all, now, does it?"

Her project had always had flaws, but he'd hoped he'd have time to guide her onto the straight-and-narrow, and he still intended to do just that. He suggested she talk with Caroline about it, as Caroline knew a thing or two about animated transfiguration from her own research, and Cynthia said she certainly would.

"Hey, Dad," Harry said, entering the kitchen and waving his wand to put the kettle on. "What's that, then?"

"Sweets from your mum and me," James said, with another wink. "For our darling granddaughter. Are you lot doing anything Sunday?"

"We aren't going to the Falcons match, Dad."

Cynthia giggled, and James clicked his tongue at being caught out. He'd figured they'd decide it would be too soon for Cynthia to go out in public, but he had hoped they might. He'd try again in a month or two, when they'd had a bit of time for things to calm down. Cynthia might not love Quidditch the way Cecilia had, but she would almost certainly enjoy a day out with the family, doing something normal.

Like Quidditch. Everybody liked Quidditch.

"Where's Kitty?" he asked, checking his watch. "Isn't she usually back by now?"

"It's her first day back to work," Cynthia said with a shrug. "She reckoned she'd have a long day. And, anyway, she had to go to meetings. D'you want an ice cream?"

"Bit cold for that, isn't it?"

Cynthia grinned an almost wicked grin she'd never had before she went off on her adventure, and it made James's stomach turn uncomfortably. She said Nanna – Cara – always gave them ice cream when something big happened, or ice lollies, if they had them. Harry frowned, although he obviously knew all about this, and James momentarily felt sorry for Caroline, whose children were already terrors, without extra sugar and sweets from their grandmother.

"I think I'll pass, love," James said, accepting his tea from his son. "Your mum's probably coming around later in the week, Harry. She's been in Wiltshire a lot, lately."

Harry hummed, frowning at Cynthia again as if thinking of something. She'd tested negative for the retrovirus, thankfully, but perhaps Harry was thinking, as James now often thought, of Draco. To know that in a matter of years his mother and wife would both be gone, the very painful and slow way his father had gone.

James took a moment to be grateful for what he had, flawed though it was.

/-/

Catherine folded her hands in her lap in the stranger's home. She knew of the man through the papers, through his books, through the talk of her father and others, but she did not know him personally. When she'd showed up at his doorstep he'd been surprised to see her, but he seemed flattered, and he offered her tea, which he was preparing now, across from her in his tiny but cozy sitting room.

"So," Mr. Barker said, smiling as he passed her the cup, "to what do I own the pleasure, Mrs. Potter?"

Telling her daughter about what she'd gone through had been an eye-opening experience, had made her realize just how little she'd helped by not telling her daughters everything when they were younger. Perhaps the whole mess could have been avoided if she'd only let go of her pride.

"The deal you made with my father," she said, smoothing her skirt and examining the tea lazily. "I believe it's time we discussed it."

"Indeed. He's told you…?"

"That he's retiring and you will take his place?" she said, smiling grimly. "Yes. Congratulations. Shall we take the matters in order?"

"Karkaroff."

"The person who has the most to lose is my father," she said softly, rubbing her jaw. "No one would dare take away any of their positions, of course, but my father needs the veil of innocence, even if he's disgusted by what he's done. When he passes away, I see no harm in publishing everything in that sequence of events unaltered."

Mr. Barker's lips curled and he took a sip of his own tea. He was a clever man, and she began to sip her tea as he considered her words carefully. He set the cup down and said, "And what about the incident with Miss Patil would you like altered, Mrs. Potter?"

Catherine set down her tea, crossed her legs, and rested her arm on her knee, letting her eyes graze the man's bookshelf. He was well-read, even if he'd only read half the books. And she knew, from what she could divine of him, that he was a man who'd read every single one, and probably had more shelves filled with more books he'd read.

"You've heard, I presume, of the death of Ryana Cotton." Mr. Barker hummed, inclining his head slightly. "I have spent the last few days since my daughter's return considering my life, Mr. Barker. I find I am not pleased with much of what I see. A great number of people in my life have suffered, and could suffer even more for my sins, my mistakes, my selfishness, my pride. I don't know that I'm repentant, and I don't know that I'll ever change, but there is one thing I can do for the person who matters the most, and Merlin knows I've never done enough for him."

"Your father?" Mr. Barker asked smoothly.

"My husband," she said, smiling lightly. "It's a silly thing, you see, but if the truth of Padma Patil's death is known, it will change how our daughter looks at him. It will change how the world looks at him. But especially Cynthia, it would break his heart. It's different from the things my father did during the war, and Cynthia is not me. She might understand, I don't know, but it would not make it easy for them. There will be questions, and he will have to face some consequences. But he did it for me. They're my consequences, you see? For once, I need to face the consequences other people have sheltered me from. So, when you publish the story of Padma Patil's death…."

She licked her lips, fighting back the nausea.

"When I publish," he said, "I keep the official version of her death?"

"No," Catherine said, closing her eyes. "When you publish, I hold the knife. Not Harry. For all that history will ever know, I killed Padma Patil."

Mr. Barker said nothing for a long time, and the heaviness of the silence was suffocating. When a small popping sound from the fireplace ended their silence, he said, "This is why you really want to wait until your father is dead, isn't it? Because you know it would destroy him for you to take the blame."

She said nothing, picking up her tea again. Harry would be upset as well, but it needed to be done. She could hardly look her daughter in the eye when they told her what had happened – not even mentioning what Harry had done to end it – and she needed to do this one thing, a small thing, really.

"You won't face jail time," he said, eyes narrowed. "Being a Black, and a Potter, and so many years elapsing between. But the court of public opinion may be quite brutal."

"Mr. Barker," she said, amused, "there's never been a court, of law or public opinion, that has meant a thing to me apart from the opinion of my family. That damage is already done. There is nothing in the world that could touch me once my father is gone. I don't believe in history, and I don't believe in public opinion, and this may shock you, but I certainly don't believe in rule of law. The only thing I've believed in for some time is my family, and I don't know what that makes me, but it isn't going to change. Will you publish…Cynthia's…?"

"No," he said, firmly, not quite quickly. "She didn't hurt anyone. She hasn't broken any anything that can't easily be fixed. The truth is, she was away from school while grieving. That was the story, and that was the truth. What do details matter? I overlooked some of your father's indiscretions as well. Perhaps, with your gesture and his, we won't have these decisions to make, in future. Perhaps the light will shine in where it belongs."

Catherine didn't care, one way or the other, but she thanked him once he promised to rewrite history as agreed. If it was the only thing she could give Harry since the birth of their children, it would have to do.

But even this would never be enough for the life of love and sacrifice he had given her. Nothing could ever be enough.

 **A/N: So, Cyn and Colly are a thing, Sirius has resigned his position, Severus is committed to finding a cure, and Kitty is determined to put things right for her husband. Later today, I'll post Part 0 (officially called Unknowns, Part the Prior) and Part 4 (officially called Unknowns, Part the Fourth). And by later today, I mean immediately following uploading this chapter.**

 **I'll put this in each of those first chapters, but here's the deal: I'll continue applying updates via weekly and bonus basis. Because you're getting two chapters for each update instead of one, if you choose to read both stories, I'm upping the threshold to 15 reviews for a bonus, from anywhere in the series. Never read Part 1? You can still go back, review all thirty-some chapters, and earn two bonus chapters per Parts 0 and 4!**

 **As for review Q &A, every question will be earmarked with the part it was posted to, and I'll keep the questions for Parts 0 and 4 separated as much as possible, and questions for the other parts will be spread out between the two as is necessary.**

 **If you want to read both parts simultaneously, you can definitely do so. You may get some tidbits of spoilers, of sorts, for Part 0 that way, but they're meant to be read more or less together. You don't need to read Part 1, but you should have read Parts 2-3 before embarking on Part 4, or you'll be terribly lost. If you've got here, I'm guessing you did that much.**

 **For reference, Part 0 is set starting at the end of 1945, going through the late seventies. It covers the story of Cara's mother, Sirius's father, mother and uncle, and Rabastan's father; as well as Sirius, Narcissa, Cara, Rabastan, etc., as children. Part 4 is set on a much tighter time span, starting six years on from this point and covering perhaps a couple of years at most. I've not nailed it down as tightly. It will cover the changes in the wizarding world, giving a wide variety of characters great and small a second chance at love if they've yet to find it, and will focus mostly on the retrovirus, Sev and Narcissa, and Catherine's consequences for basically her whole life to this point. Albus Dumbledore will make a prominent reentry to the tale, and someone might have babies. Oh, who am I kidding? There will be babies.**

 **Review Prompt: What are your thoughts on Catherine's little chat with Barker? I can't even tell you how much fun that was to write.**

 **Q &A:**

 **Q: James and Sirius seem to be cracking; how come Remus is fine? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Obviously a question from a while back. Still, there's a few reasons Remus was alright, comparatively. For one, he had way more responsibilities on his plate, with Severus gone. He was the strong one because he had to be, which is something he has done throughout his life, including when the Marauders were children. The way Cara doesn't crumble because her family needs her to be strong and steady, even when she does want to fall apart. But also, Cynthia is James and Sirius's granddaughter, and they both lost Cecilia as their granddaughter. No matter how close Remus is to them, no matter how much like family, it isn't quite the same, and he's not as close to Catherine's children as Severus was/is.**

 **Q: Who will Cynthia have the hardest time facing? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: If Cecilia had been around, it would have been her. Cynthia defines herself by the people who look up to her. In that way, it will be hardest when she faces her cousins again—particularly Gareth and Issy, to whom she's closest. After that, definitely her father. She's absolutely daddy's girl, not quite the same way Catherine was, but in her own way.**

 **Q: Can you please do a fic (even a oneshot would do) at some point that features [Severus and Narcissa] as the main pairing? (AvinaNox)**

 **A: Hello, darling! I hope your first day at work was fabulous! Well, as stated above, Part 4 will have Sev/Narcissa as a primary pairing, even listed as such. If that's still not enough for you as we get into it, I'll do a oneshot. Just let me know!**

 **Q: Would anybody try and do to Harry what Rabastan is doing to Catherine? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Gosh, what an interesting question. I really hadn't thought about this. Not that Harry isn't attractive, desirable, etc. But part of the problem is, Harry's been house-husbanding for years. Back when he was playing Quidditch and was a big star, absolutely girls would have tried it. But he's not the Harry from the books. He's not the Chosen One, so his importance to society has more to do with his surname, his bank account, and his wife than anything. At this point, no, I can't think of anyone who would try what Rabastan did to Catherine.**

 **Q: Would you consider writing what [Catherine] went through with other characters instead of Rabastan, for example, Cedric? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: In a way, I already have, because what Rabastan put her through should certainly remind you of what Padma did to her, and what Karkaroff tried. But Cedric? He's way too nice and normal to do that. Even at his most desperate, the most he could do was pester her for a date. It would never occur to him to try something more extreme. Would another man try it? I expect if she had any history with Cormac McLaggen, he might have done, but she doesn't. So much of her immediate social circle is family, and not psychotic family, so at this point I think she's pretty safe from that kind of garbage. But don't worry. Part 0 is about Cara's mother, so we'll get plenty of heavy-handedness from that backstory to make up for the lack of it in Part 4.**

 **Q: Does Harry suspect Rabastan has done something while they've been away? (Michand)**

 **A: Absolutely not. Harry has come to trust Rabastan as someone who has done a lot for his family, especially Catherine and Cara. He would never have guessed something like this would happen, although he does feel something was wrong with Catherine. He suspects it was something more self-destructive than sinister. He's truly innocent and naïve enough to believe Rabastan has simply vanished, bless him.**

 **Q: Would Catherine ever cheat willingly on Harry with Rabastan or anyone else? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: NO, absolutely not. Catherine wouldn't even have had a relationship with Ryana had Harry said he didn't want her to. For all her faults, Catherine does love her husband, and she does take their marriage very seriously. Particularly with Rabastan, it never would have happened had she not been manipulated magically and mentally.**

 **Q: What happened to Rhiannon? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Rhiannon left. She had fed as much as she could feed on Cynthia. She could sense Cynthia's increasing restlessness with the lifestyle they were leading. She's gone off to find another source of grief to feed on. The mutual benefit she perceived was over, and so there was no point staying.**

 **Q: Will Catherine ever suspect something about Ryana's death? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: While Catherine will forever thing Ryana's death was accidental, she will still feel she was somehow to blame, that perhaps she was part of the reason Ryana left in the first place and so she is partly to blame for Ryana having the accident when she did.**

 **Q: Would Catherine be able to ever access the memories of what has happened to her, by accident? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: I won't get too much into this, because there's still Part 4 to come, and this is covered there, but she can't access the memories because Severus didn't just lock them away or wipe them. He ripped them out of her, the way Rabastan ripped the memories from Cara of what he'd done when they were young. They aren't there to be accessed, even if she tries. As we saw with Cara, though, that doesn't mean the impression is gone. Catherine will feel something is wrong, and what form that will take, well, you'll have to wait and see.**

 **Q: Would Harry and Catherine think about having more children? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: SPOILER ALERT! BIG SPOILER ALERT!**

 **Well, at this point, Harry always thinks of more children, but he wouldn't ask. Catherine doesn't think of more children, and so would never bring it up. But in future? More children is something that would be on the table. Certainly. But lots of things have to be resolved before that is a consideration.**

 **Q: Why was Rabastan so careless? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Toward the end? Rabastan was careless because he was confident in his abilities, and because he was desperate. The desperate are rarely sensible in all they do. He also didn't believe Severus would come until after Cynthia was found, at the least, and she still wasn't found yet when Severus came looking. I would say more reckless than careless: he thought he had enough time to push through the final phases of his plans, and he did not.**

 **Q: Will Cynthia only date women now? (Jonstark1995)**

 **A: Cynthia will not only date only women now, she'll only date Columbine now. Consider them committed. :D**

 **Q: Wasn't the Floo turned off? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Ah, remember our only hint the Floo might be turned off was something Rabastan said to Catherine. Rabastan lies. It might surprise you to learn this, but he was definitely a liar. Haha. Anyway, turning the Floo on and off was more difficult than they wanted, and it would have set tongues wagging at the Ministry, so quite unnecessary. But Catherine believed him, and that was all he needed.**

 **Q: Will James ever remember? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: James could press through for the memory if he really wanted to, but as everything was resolved so soon after and the matter was relatively trivial by comparison, he won't sit around wondering for the rest of his life about that small gap in his memory. He'll get over it, and he won't think of it again.**

 **Q: Will Snape be able to save Narcissa? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: Well, at the risk of SPOILING Part 4, I will say I'm not totally decided. I've gone back and forth a lot on two characters possibly dying. Three, really. Narcissa is one of these. At this point, I'm about seventy percent sure she won't die, but that's not set in stone. Initially I wanted to kill her off, but I don't know that I like that anymore. That was back when I wasn't going to do a Part 4, but just leave us on the hint that Severus would dedicate the rest of her life to looking for a cure, and that they would build a relationship from there. But you know me, enough is never enough. So, she'll likely live.**

 **Q: How long has Severus loved Narcissa? (Noahtheowl)**

 **A: Love's not exactly a simple thing to put a timeline on, but he started falling for her during the war, so…decades now. Over forty years, anyway.**

 **Q: How will [Cara] react to losing her brother? (Th3Gingerwizard)**

 **A: As we've seen, Cara has an idea of what happened to Rabastan, and she's accepted it. She doesn't know the details, but she doesn't need to. She has a sense of what's happened, a sense that hasn't left her since recovering her memories, and even before. He's always made her think of her own father, a bit uncomfortable, and in a way, this is closure for her, and for Delia, and for Catherine. A weight off all their shoulders.**

 **Cheers, and on to the next ones!**

 **C**


End file.
